


Love is Always in Fashion

by ranguvar82



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fashion Designer Aziraphale, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Abuse, Model Crowley (Good Omens), Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Crowley was once a top model, until a horrific accident took everything from him. Now he's forced to work for the lowest of the low, and he has reached the end of his rope. He hates his life, hates what he has been forced to become. Then his friend Ana asks him to accompany her to a vintage clothing store to pick out a dress for her next shoot. Crowley reluctantly agrees, not realizing that he is about to meet an angel that will lead him back into the light.Aziraphale Fell loves making clothes. He's good at it, and he makes a comfortable living. He's also sworn off any sort of relationship, finding them more trouble than they're worth. But when a gorgeous redhead comes into his shop, he finds himself wanting to break his one rule.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Comments: 224
Kudos: 241
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Welcome To Hell

Love is Always in Fashion

Chapter One: Welcome To Hell

The building stood in a dingy, dank alleyway in one of the worst sections of London. The windows were grimy with the dirt of ages, and slimy substances coated the walls. No one ever wanted to look close enough at them. Grimy lettering on an equally grimy door stated that the building was the ‘Zebub and Fish Modeling Agency’.

Inside was equally as morose looking. The floor was sticky, the building smelled of dead things, and the walls were coated so thick with dust that it was impossible to tell what color they might have been at one time. A long corridor with several doors in it ran the length of the building, and the sound of water dripping from the ceiling was constant.

In a rotting chair in one of the rooms, his legs crossed under him and his eyes closed in thought, sat a man with flame red hair that was done up in a French braid. He had on black jeans, a black shirt, and a silver tie-scarf. His right foot tapped in the air to a beat only he could hear.

“Crowley!” The angry shout of Dagon Fish, co-founder of what Crowley privately called ‘Hell’, brought him out of his thoughts. He cracked open one golden eye and glared at his boss. “You were supposed to be on call twenty minutes ago! Hastur’s waiting to shoot you, and he’s fucking pissed! And so am I! You may have been Mr. Big Shot Model at one point, but now you’re a shit eater like the rest of us! Stop fucking dreaming about the past, get off your ass, and get to work!”

“Fuck you, Dagon.” Crowley drawled. He uncoiled himself, standing and slipping on his sunglasses. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a medicine bottle, pouring two pills into his hand and popping them in his mouth. He dry-swallowed them, blinking at Dagon’s smug look. “What?”

Dagon snorted. “You’re a fucking hypocrite. You refuse to let Bee and I give you the calming pills, you go on and on about exploitation and how we’re, quote, ‘ruining people’s lives’, and here you are popping stuff that’s ten times as strong as what Bee and I pass out.”

Crowley took a deep breath, reminding himself that as much as he wanted to, punching Dagon in the face would not be the best idea. “I have a condition that requires me to take pain medication. Medication that is carefully monitored by myself and my doctor. Medicine that I will have to be on for the rest of my life, otherwise I will be in intense physical pain. Whereas you and Bee are doping up people to make sure that when they pose for the shit they’re forced to pose for here, they don’t say anything about how fucking degrading it is.”

Dagon’s smirk grew wider, showing off oddly sharp teeth. “You could always go someplace else. Oh, wait, no you can’t. You’re fucking persona non grata as far as the legit places are concerned. Funny how quickly a star can fall, isn’t it?”

Crowley snarled and headed down the corridor to the photography room. Hastur, one of the two photographers, glared at him. “Well, about time you showed. Fucking diva. You know I’ve been waiting for twenty fucking minutes for you?”

“Boo fucking hoo. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” Crowley said, shedding his shirt to reveal a skinny chest roped with muscle. He went over to a stool that sat in the middle of the floor and sunk down on it. The stool creaked alarmingly, and Crowley planted his feet flat on the floor.

Now came the part he despised. Hastur’s assistant Ligur came over, a coil of rough rope in one hand and a rag in the other. “You know the drill, Crowley. Lift up your arms.” Crowley glared at him. “Do it, or you’ll get the same thing you got last week.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Ligur sighed in resignation. “Right.” He grabbed Crowley’s arms, yanking them above his head, at the same time looping the rope tight around his wrists and throwing the rest of it over a low hanging beam that was directly above. He tied the rope tight enough to cut off the circulation to Crowley’s arms and wrists, and the redhead bit back a scream of pain. Ligur shoved the rag into his mouth, and Crowley nearly choked on the chemical taste. “There we go. All nice and pretty.”

Crowley sobbed behind the gag, knowing from bitter experience that if he struggled while ‘modeling’ they would force him into even more degrading poses. He went inward, forcing himself to imagine that he was somewhere else. A garden, perhaps. One with flowers, and fruit trees. Trees that he had planted himself. He was shirtless, and covered in the dirt of good, honest toil. There were bees buzzing around, and there was...yes, there was someone else there. Someone with a kind smile, and soft hands. Someone that would never treat him like an object, would never force him to do things that made him sick. Someone that he could curl up with on cold nights and feel safe and loved. Someone that…

“PAY ATTENTION!” Ligur’s shout shocked Crowley back to the present. “Fucking useless piece of shit. Now, would you please be so good as to look at the fucking camera?!” Ligur snarled, grabbing Crowley’s chin and forcing his head upright.

Crowley’s arms had gone dead long ago, and the pain in his shoulders was becoming unbearable. The chemical taste of the rag made him want to vomit. The worst thing, though, was that the position he was in was forcing him on his toes, and his pelvis was screaming in pain. His face was wet with tears, and he gazed with pleading, desperate eyes at his tormentors. Ligur looked over at Hastur, an ugly grin on his face.

“Whatcha think? We get enough pics for our customers?”

Hastur smirked. “Yeah. Though who’d want to beat it off to this skinny beanpole is beyond me. Still, takes all sorts to make a world, don’t it? Go on and get him down, and tell Dagon to send in that blonde bitch next. The one with the tits.”

Ligur untied Crowley and pulled out the rag. Crowley collapsed onto the floor, panting and sobbing from pain. “Y’know, if you’d be a good boy and take the pills we provide, we wouldn’t have to go through this.”

Crowley lifted his head and glared at Ligur with such vehement hatred that the man stepped back. He struggled to his feet and limped out the door. On the way, he passed by the next model, her face a vacant mask. Crowley wanted to grab her, shake her out of her drug induced apathy, and scream for her to run. Run far away.

He somehow managed to make it out of the building and into his car(a vintage Bentley that was all he had left from the Better Days) before the pain engulfed him. He clenched his fists, screaming as his nerves contracted and his body went into spasms. He wrenched the door open and vomited onto the pavement.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain lessened. He slowly eased himself into an upright position and started the car, heading for his flat.

He unlocked his door and stumbled in, throwing his keys in the key bowl and kicked off his shoes. He staggered over to the fridge and got out a bottle of apple juice. He took a long drink, then placed it back in the fridge and got out some ham and cheese. The bread was on the counter, and he set about making his meager dinner.

A small noise came from behind him, and he turned, smiling softly at the one good thing in his life. “Hey darlin’. You miss me?” He knelt down, and the puppy waddled over, tail wagging.

A month ago, Crowley had been standing in the alley behind Hell and thinking about how much his life sucked, and would anyone miss him if he just stepped in front of a train, when he had heard a whimpering sound coming from around the corner. Curious, he had followed the noise. In a cardboard box, nearly dead from the cold, lay a small black and white puppy. Crowley had bundled the poor creature up in his jacket and taken him home.

Hours later, after scouring the Net., Crowley had gone out and gotten puppy formula, blankets, bottles, and a small bed. It had taken more hours of careful feeding and warmth before the puppy began to stir. He had opened his eyes, and Crowley was shocked and delighted to find that they were gold, just like his. And so Oreo had come into his life.

Crowley cuddled him, stroking his soft fur and breathing in the puppy smell. “You know, if it weren’t for you I’d take a swan dive off this building. Not like anyone would miss me. I’ve got no one. Fucking...” his voice broke, and he began sobbing in earnest.

How the fuck had he fallen so far? But he knew. It was a string of bad luck and horrible circumstances that had taken him from the very top of the modeling world to being forced into humiliating, degrading photos for the deviant underground. The accident had been the start of it. Suddenly no one big wanted to hire him, didn’t want to take a chance on someone that had been hurt that badly. So he had gone to the B list agencies, modeling cheap underwear and cologne. But the pain, ever present, grew worse, and there were days where he couldn’t get out of bed, let alone come to work. And slowly, even the calls from the lesser agencies had stopped.

Then came the letters from the bank, from the landlord, from the credit card companies. Crowley was drowning in debt, on the verge of losing everything. His savings were gone, and he would rather walk naked through barbed wire than ask his parents for help. Not after the way they had parted.

Two months before he was to be evicted, he got an email from a person calling themselves Bee. They claimed to be the co owner of an ‘alternative modeling agency’, and said that they had seen some of Crowley’s old work, and they wanted to hire him. Desperate and hungry, Crowley had agreed to come by for a session. After all, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t done a few ‘risque’ photos.

By the time he realized what the place really was, it was too late. He was locked in as surely as if he were in an actual prison. The pay was good, and Crowley had been able to clear his debts and keep his flat, but the humiliation and pain he suffered on a daily basis made him wish he had deleted the email.

He had tried numerous times to simply walk away, telling Bee and Dagon that he was done. Each time, they had smugly pointed out that he signed a binding contract, and if he tried anything they would sue him for breaching it. He threatened to expose the agency for what it truly was, and Bee had gleefully told him about the very powerful and very sleazy law firm they had on retainer. And so Crowley had given up, realizing that nothing short of a miracle would get him out.

He sniffled, wiped his eyes, and stood. He assembled his sandwich, poured himself a glass of juice, then went over to the couch, turning on the TV. He flipped to a Golden Girls rerun and took a bite of the sandwich, gold eyes blank. Oreo snuggled up to him, eyes wide and pleading. Crowley tore off a piece of sandwich. The puppy wiggled happily and took it. “That’s all you’re getting, sweetie.”

Oreo huffed and laid his head in Crowley’s lap. Crowley scratched his ears, mind still churning.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of his mobile. He picked it up off the table. “Lo?”

“Anthony? You okay, hon?” It was Anathema, a model that he had known in the Old Days, and one of the only people to still associate with him. “I was doing my readings when I got this feeling that you were in trouble.”

“M fine, Ana. Still stuck in Hell, but...”

“Anthony, sweetie, you have to get away from there.”

“I CAN’T! DON’T YOU THINK I’VE TRIED! I’M STUCK!”

Anathema sighed. “Sweetheart, that place is going to end up killing you. You are more valuable than that, and you know it.”

Crowley sobbed. “Tell that to all the legit agencies that turned me down because I couldn’t come to work some days because the pain was so bad. Tell that to the asshole that ran me down. Hell, tell that to my parents, who treated me like shit when I lived with them and then tossed me out the second I told them I was gay. I’m not worth anything, Ana. Fuck, the only reason why I was even a top model was because I had the walk. I’m not valuable, Anathema. I’m...I’m fucking worthless, and the world would be better without me.”

“Anthony J Crowley, I never want to hear those words from you. You are a bright, shining star. You are my best friend, damn it!”

“Then you picked a pretty poor fucking excuse for a friend.” Crowley said through his tears.

Anathema snorted. “I picked a wonderful person for a friend. And I need my friend’s help. I’m doing a shoot next week that focuses on vintage-style clothing, and I want to put together my own outfit.”

“Where do I come in?”

“Well, real vintage clothing is a bit beyond my budget right now, but I’ve heard there’s this guy in Soho that makes copies that look like the real thing. He sells mostly to theater groups and vintage enthusiasts, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind selling a few pieces to me. I need you to come with me as my support, to tell me what looks good and what doesn’t. You’ve got amazing taste in clothes, despite the fact that you only ever wear black.”

“When do you need me?”

“Monday.”

Monday morning found Crowley and Anathema walking down the Soho street. Crowley looked over at his friend. “So where is this place, anyway?”

Ana frowned. “Hmm, according to Google Maps it should be right...here.” She stopped in front of a building on the corner. A hand lettered sign on the window read ‘Fell’s Finery’. Inside Crowley could see racks of clothes. Ana marched up to the door and pushed it open. A bell softly rang, and Crowley followed, looking about.

The clothing was all old fashioned, but even an untrained eye could tell it was all handmade. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Crowley wandered over to a rack that held pinstripe suits, rifling through them. He stopped at one. It was a deep black, with dark red stripes. He pulled it off the rack, admiring the cut. He’d always had a weakness for the styles of the 1920s.

Anathema was looking at a rack of dresses, whistling in admiration. “This guy’s good.”

“Yeah. Wonder where he is. Helllooo? Shop?”

“Oh, I do apologize! I didn’t realize anyone was here!” The voice, cultured and polished, came from the back. Crowley turned, prepared to offer some sort of snarky comment.

And froze, gaping at the drop dead gorgeous man that stood before him. The shop owner was short, and plump, and Crowley felt a powerful urge to curl himself around the man and never let go. His hair was so blond it was nearly white, and he had eyes that seemed to change color every few seconds-now they were blue, now hazel, now a deep grey. He beamed at Crowley, and the model felt his heart lurch. “Hello.”

“Uh...uh..uh...” Crowley couldn’t speak. Anathema came over, smiling.

“Hey. Anathema Device. And you are?”

The blond beamed even wider and stuck out a hand. “Aziraphale Fell. I know, it’s a mouthful.” Ana shook his hand, and Aziraphale turned to the still gobsmacked Crowley. “You are?”

“Uh...Crowley. That’s me. I’m...Crowley. Nice to meet you.” Crowley babbled. God above, did this man even realize how utterly beautiful he was?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Crowley.” Aziraphale took his hand, and Crowley felt an electric jolt go up his spine. Aziraphale’s hand was soft, and warm...and fit perfectly inside Crowley’s. He didn’t want to let go, but he did. He felt strangely empty without Aziraphale’s hand in his. “What brings you here?”

Ana spoke up. “Well, I’m a model, and I’m doing a shoot that requires me to have a vintage style dress. Sort of late Victorian era. I was told that you might be able to help?”

“Oh, yes, of course. If you’ll follow me, I’ll see what I have that might suit.”

Crowley found a chair and sat watching as Aziraphale and Ana went about the shop, selecting and rejecting clothes. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blond. He was ethereal, an angel made manifest. Crowley found himself wanting to know more about the man. Did he like tea or coffee? What was his laugh like? Did he enjoy going out or staying in? How would his lips feel if Crowley kissed him? What sort of sounds would he make if Crowley…

Crowley firmly told his mind to get out of the gutter. There was no way that someone as clearly wonderful as Aziraphale(what a wonderful name) would waste one second of his life to get to know a broken wreck like Crowley.

“One?” Ana’s voice jerked him back to the present. She was holding two dresses. “Which one?”

Crowley pointed to the dark green one in her left hand. “That. It brings out your eyes and does wonders for your skin tone.”

Ana grinned. “Knew I brought you along for a reason. Okay, Aziraphale, I’ll take this one. Crowley, was there something you wanted?”

‘Yes, and he’s got the fluffiest hair I’ve ever seen and a body that I want to curl around and never let go.’ “Er...well, there was this suit that I liked, but I can’t afford it.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Nonsense. Show me the suit, and I’m sure we can make a deal.”

Three hours later, back in his flat, Crowley admired the pinstripe suit. It fit him perfectly, and he thought to himself that all he needed was a hat, and he could pass for a bootlegger. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and felt a slip of paper in the left one. Curious, he pulled it out. It was folded up, and he opened it.

‘I don’t usually do this, but you looked like you could use a friend. Call me?’

Written underneath was a number, and a name. ‘Aziraphale.’

Crowley sank to the floor, sobbing. He had been right. The man was an angel.


	2. Just Like Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn how Aziraphale's love of sewing began, then head back to the present for a Very Important Phone Call

Chapter Two: Just Like Heaven

Aziraphale Fell had always had a love for the fashions of yesteryear. As a boy, he had worn clothing that was more than twenty years older than he was, preferring the clean lines and colors of the seventies to the harsh and abrasive fashions of the nineties. As to the fashions of the eighties- Aziraphale looked upon those with the horror akin to an arachnophobic looking at a spider. Color was fine, yes. But neon? Aziraphale would have rather walked naked in the streets than subject himself to that monstrosity.

When he had been seven, a distant aunt had sent a beginner’s sewing kit to his sister Michael for her ninth birthday, not knowing that Michael’s gift of choice leaned more towards footballs and drum kits. She had pitched a horrific tantrum and thrown the kit across the room, where it landed next to Aziraphale, who was sprawled out on his stomach next to the fireplace(Michael’s birthday was in November) absorbed in his copy of Treasure Island. He picked it up, looked at it, and tucked it under his small body.

Later, Michael was placated by the enormous cake and mountain of other presents from more knowledgeable friends and relatives. Aziraphale, invisible as always to his parents and siblings, had gone upstairs to his room and opened the sewing kit. The instructions were written so as to be easily understood, and there were scraps of colorful fabric that, according to the instructions, could be made into a small blanket. Aziraphale liked blankets. He had seven, one for each year, and they were all different patterns and colors.

It took him four weeks, three packages of plasters(he kept poking himself with the needle) and one crying fit when the blanket got knotted and would **not** come loose, no matter how hard he tried, but finally, he accomplished his goal and made a lovely, lumpy blanket. Full of pride, he had shown it to his parents, and in typical fashion, they had dismissed his accomplishments. Gabriel and Sandy had mocked him, calling him a sissy boy. 

Aziraphale’s love of sewing had begun that day, and as he grew older, so did his skill. He begged his parents for a sewing machine for his eleventh birthday, and to his considerable shock received one. True, it wasn’t the best model, and more often than not he had to re thread the needle and go over a crooked seam, but he managed. He would scour the Internet for sewing tips, fabrics, and  patterns, buying as many as he could. By the time secondary school rolled around, he was making the majority of his own outfits. His fellow students,  rather than mocking him as he had feared, approached him asking for help sewing buttons onto their shirts, patches onto their jeans, and so forth. Aziraphale, not being stupid, had charged a minimal fee for each job. He hid the notes in a biscuit tin under his bed. 

He knew from the start what he wanted to do for university, and so had enrolled in the London College of Fashion and Design. His professors had never seen someone with as much skill and enthusiasm, and Aziraphale had passed all his classes with top marks. 

Then the hammer had fallen. Aziraphale had gotten a phone call from his father. Mr. Fell had been nearly apoplectic in his fury, and when Aziraphale finally got him calmed down enough to explain, he had felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. 

Apparently, according to the elder Fell, Aziraphale had been photographed going in and out of a certain club in London, a club that catered to the ‘discrete gentleman’. Mr. Fell had demanded an explanation. Aziraphale had protested that he only went there to look at the pictures they had of the men of the olden days, to get an idea for his next outfit. But  then his father had asked him to explain the photos that showed him in intimate embraces with other men. Aziraphale had begged for a chance to explain in person, but his father had angrily told him that no deviant was going to set foot in his house, and that Aziraphale could consider himself disowned from this point on. 

Aziraphale had cried for days. He had known that his parents discovering he was gay would be heartbreaking for him, but he had hoped to do it on his own terms, not to be forced out by the photographs of a leech. 

For months he wallowed in despair, not wanting to leave his flat or even approach his sewing machine. Then his neighbor down the hall had knocked on his door and asked him if he could help her fix her daughter’s dress, “You bein’ good at sewin’, or so I hear, and Florence is growin’ up so fast, an’ I’d be forever in yore debt, Mr. Fell.” Aziraphale had agreed, and was delighted to find that he hadn’t lost his love for sewing. 

He had thrown himself back into his work with a gusto that surprised him, sketching and rejecting ideas for new outfits. He didn’t want to be contemporary, that much he knew. He began looking at vintage clothing, realizing that the fashions of old were far better made and lasted much longer than today’s clothing, which seemed to fall apart if someone breathed hard. So he had begun to make copies of Victorian style dresses, 1920s fashions, 50s fashions-anything and everything that he could. 

When the first theater company came knocking-a small local group doing a production of Oliver that needed costumes- Aziraphale had felt, for the first time, that he could actually make a living at this sewing bit. 

As the years rolled by, Aziraphale’s reputation grew, and his flat grew too small to hold all the clothing he was making. So he had scoured Soho for a brick and mortar location. He’d found it in what had once been a bookshop, right on the corner with lovely columns out front. He had met with the owner, signed the papers, and moved in the next day. It had taken nearly a month to get the place up to his standard(the previous owner seemed to have never dusted a day in his life), but at last, Fell’s Finery was ready to open to the public. 

Business had boomed, and now, seven years later, Aziraphale was  leading a comfortable life. He wasn’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but he earned enough to be able to pay the rent on his flat and shop and treat himself every now and then to a nice dinner at The Ritz. 

The only thing missing from his life was someone to share it with. Aziraphale could count on one hand the number of successful dates he had been on. He seemed to have a knack for attracting exactly the wrong sort of men. Oh, they seemed nice enough  when he first met them(usually through some work he was doing for theater companies, or just through a friend of a friend) but inevitably, when he told them what he did for a living and began to wax rhapsodic, their eyes would glaze over and they would look profoundly bored. A few even made rather cruel jokes about how his weight obviously meant that he couldn’t buy off the rack. Aziraphale had ended those dates by throwing his wine in their faces and storming out. 

So he had given up finding anyone and resigned himself to the life of a lonely bachelor. 

Then, six months later, a vision in red had walked into his store accompanied by a woman with long black hair. Aziraphale had been working on his latest design-a tartan patterned pair of pajamas that he was making strictly for himself, when he heard, “Helllo? Shop?” 

Sighing to himself, he set the paper down on his desk and headed out to the front. The first thing he saw was hair so red it seemed to be on fire. It tumbled down like a fiery waterfall to the middle of the person’s back, and it was wonderfully curly. The red head had on jeans that showed off very long legs and a(Aziraphale blushed) rather nice looking arse. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

Red Hair turned, and Aziraphale felt the world stop. Oh. God. Red Hair was a man. A  **devastatingly gorgeous** man. He had the sharpest cheekbones Aziraphale had ever seen, lips that looked like they were made for kissing, and eyes that were the color of gold. Aziraphale found himself wanting to drown in those eyes.  The redhead was staring at him, mouth open, and Aziraphale felt a fluttery sensation in his stomach. 

Aziraphale introduced himself, discovered that the young woman-Anathema Device-was in search for a vintage dress for a shoot she was doing, and happily offered his help. Crowley-what a lovely name- had ensconced himself in one of the chairs scattered about, his knees up to his chest and his eyes tracking the tailor’s every movement. There was something in the way Crowley held himself that tugged at Aziraphale’s heart. He seemed extremely skittish, as if he might fall apart at any second. Aziraphale felt a swell of pity for him. 

Slipping the piece of paper with the note and his number into the pocket of the suit had been a last minute impulse. He didn’t expect anything to come of it. 

So when his mobile rang  a few days later, he expected it to be another client. “Fell’s Finery, Aziraphale speaking. How may I assist you?” 

“Um...you uh..probably don’t remember me. This is um...Crowley. From the other day?”

Aziraphale was elated. “Of course I remember you, my dear. I’m very glad you decided to call.”

There was a shuffling sound as Crowley sat. “Yeah, well, um...look, I’m...not the sort of person you want to be friends with. I’m...not really...the uh...friend making type. I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I only called to tell you that I’m not worth your time. I’ll only tarnish you beyond...look, just um...why don’t you just hang up now and erase my number? Otherwise I’ll end up dragging you down with me, and...you...you don’t need that.” Aziraphale realized that Crowley was on the brink of tears. 

“You know what my worst trait is, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. He heard a loud sniffle on the other end. 

“Um...no?”

Aziraphale made himself comfortable on his sofa. “I have this horrible knack for doing the exact opposite of what I’m told at times, and I am also one of the most stubborn bastards you will ever meet. So I’m afraid that I have no choice but to continue this conversation. However, if you want to hang up...”

“NO!” The shout was nearly panicked, and Aziraphale blinked. “Um..no. I..um...I really like the sound of your voice.”

“Oh. Well, I like your voice too.”

Crowley sniffled again, but this time his voice sounded a bit happier. “Yeah? What um...what else do you like? Not about me, just in general.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well, the clothing bit you know. But I also love to read. When I’m not designing or sewing, you’ll find me curled up on my sofa or in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. I love going out to eat, and finding little hole in the wall places. I found this lovely Indian restaurant that serves the most divine coconut curry a few blocks from my shop. I enjoy going to St. James’ and feeding the ducks while I people watch. What about you, my dear? What sort of things do you enjoy?”

“Um...well, I have plants that I take care of, and I like going to the planetarium when they have their programs and when I’m not...when I’m feeling up to going, and I take Oreo for walks at the dog park...”

“Oreo?” Aziraphale laughed. “What a lovely name. Black and white, I take it?”

“Yeah. I found him abandoned in an alley near where I...um, I found him in an alley. He was almost frozen to death.”

“Oh, the poor thing.” Aziraphale commiserated. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“I...I...um...model.” Crowley sounded extremely nervous. 

“Oh, like your friend Anathema?”

“N...no. Different um...I...I can’t...” Crowley was on the verge of tears again. “C..can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Of course we can. You know, I’ve never been to the planetarium. What’s it like?” 

“Oh, it’s amazing. They have all these awesome programs, you can learn about constellations, and planets, and see eclipses, and star maps. Have you ever seen a star map? It’s amazing, it makes you realize how small you really are in the scheme of things, and when there’s meteor showers, if you’re a member like I am you get to go on field trips to see them, and everyone brings a blanket and food and we all sit in a field and eat and drink and watch the shower, and..oh god, I’m rambling. I’m so sorry.”

Aziraphale was beaming. “My dear, you do not need to apologize. You sounded so enthusiastic that I didn’t want to interrupt you. Clearly you have a love for the heavens.”

Crowley chuckled softly. “Yeah. Was gonna be an astronomer. But um...circumstances changed. I still love the stars, though.” 

“That’s wonderful to hear. Do you have a favorite?”

“Yeah. Alpha Centauri. It’s a binary system, meaning it’s two stars that look like one. I just always liked the idea that these two stars are so close that they seem to be one star, you know?”

“I believe I do.” 

There was a whining sound from Crowley’s end. “Is that Oreo?” 

Crowley laughed. “Yeah, and he’s standing by the door. I better take him out or he’ll end up making a mess. I...it was really nice talking to you, Aziraphale.”

“You too.”

Crowley took a deep breath. “Um...wouldyouliketogetcoffeesometime?” 

“Say that again, a bit slower.”

“I...was wondering if maybe you’d like to get some coffee? Or cocoa...there’s this cafe by me that has pretty good drinks, and I’ve never had their cocoa, but if it’s as good as their coffee you’d probably like it a lot, but I understand if you say no...”

“I’d love to. Name the time and the day.”

“Oh, um...how about Saturday? Say around eleven? I have to..work all week, so Saturday’s my free day. I’ll text you the name of the cafe so you can look up directions.”

“That sounds perfect. I’m free all day Saturday as well.”

“Um...good. That’s um...I better go, Oreo’s starting to dig through the door. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. And Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t erase your number.”

Crowley laughed. “You better not.”

Aziraphale stared at the phone, grinning. He entered Crowley’s number into his list of contacts, a feeling of warmth in his chest. 

He had the feeling that this was the start of something wonderful. 


	3. Not So Fun And Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is used as a human punching bag.

Chapter Three: Not So Fun And Games

Crowley was floating. He was in a beautiful, wild garden. A garden surrounded by apple trees on either side, trees that were nearly bent double from the sheer amount of bright red apples on all their branches. There was a blanket under one of the trees, and on that blanket was a large wicker basket filled to the brim with delicacies. A bottle of wine sat opened on the blanket, and beside it were two glasses filled with the red liquid.

Crowley reached up with one hand and pulled down a low hanging apple, handing it over with a shy smile to the man who sat cross legged next to him, wearing the most ridiculously old fashioned outfit and sporting hair that was the same color and consistency as the clouds above. “Can I tempt you, Angel?”

‘Angel’ blushed prettily and leaned forward, mouth open and ready to receive a bite of apple. Smirking, Crowley pulled his hand back and leaned in….

Only to be jerked back into reality when someone(most likely Hastur) delivered a blow to the bottom of his right foot that made Crowley shriek in agony. He was in one of the rooms in Hell, tied naked to a chair. Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon were there. A long table on the far wall held a variety of whips, canes, and belts. Right now, Hastur was beating the bottom of Crowley’s feet with a studded belt, making sure to land the hardest blows he could. Crowley jerked, trying in vain to escape, but the knots were too tight. Ligur was an expert at knot tying, and Crowley knew that the more he struggled, the tighter the knots would become. He could feel the harsh rope around his neck, periodically cutting off his circulation, and he had to take deep, gasping breaths. His vision, studded with spots, swam. “Stop...” his voice was rough from screaming.

Dagon spoke up from her spot on the far wall. “Man. he’s just getting started. You have only yourself to blame, you know. Bee and I told ya, either take the drugs or agree to be the little fetish boy, let us get our frustrations out. You chose this. Why?”

Crowley took a breath. “Becaussse...I...wanted...to...protect...girls...” It was true. Crowley knew pain, had lived with it for years now. And as much as what they did to him hurt, as debased and humiliated as it made him, he knew that the other models would not be able to withstand what he could. “Sides...you...torture...them...too. Jus...di...different.”

Dagon snarled and came forward, hand raised to punch him. But instead she grabbed his chin, squeezing hard. “You’re fucking lucky so many of our clients like to jerk it to this face, otherwise I’d beat you black and blue and leave you in here to pick up your teeth. You’re nothing. A pretty little punching bag for us to use as we see fit. I could give the word, and Hastur and Ligur would tear your asshole up until you were screaming for them to stop. Maybe I will tell them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, worthless little slut? Like to have a poker shoved up that tight hole and twisted until the flesh ruptures? Like to be whipped bloody? Oh, I know. Ligur, be a dear and go fetch the cane. The willow one.” She smiled evilly at Crowley’s wide eyed horror.

Ligur left the room, returning a few moments later with a long, skinny cane in his hands. He slapped it against his palms a few times. “Where you want it, Boss?”

Dagon smirked, glancing between Crowley’s legs. “You know, Crowley, we could end this right now. You let me ride that pretty cock of yours, and I’ll tell Bee that you’re strictly off limits. What do you say, hmm?” She grabbed hold of him, squeezing hard, and Crowley yelped. “What’s your answer?”

Crowley glared at her. “I’d rather fuck a dead fish.” He gathered saliva in his mouth and spat in her face. Dagon snarled and stepped back. “Ligur, he’s all yours.”

Ligur stepped forward, blood lust written on every line of his face. “Right. Time for some fun.” He brought the cane down in a whistling arc across Crowley’s bare back. The sting was beyond belief. Crowley jerked in the chair, trying desperately to escape. He could feel the welt rising on his back. Ligur lifted the cane again and brought it down once more on another part of Crowley’s skin. This time the pain made stars burst before his eyes, and he shrieked.

Again and yet again the blows landed. By the time the tenth-or was it the eleventh-blow landed, Crowley’s voice was gone. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t even whimper. All he could do was try to keep breathing. His back was a red ruin, and he could feel the blood flowing. He slumped in the chair, the ropes the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor.

Someone grabbed his hair and yanked him upright. Crowley didn’t even cry out. He was too far gone into pain to even register what was happening. Dull eyes gazed uncomprehendingly. “Hey! You stay awake, remember? It’s not any fun if you go to sleep. Hastur, go get the Bucket.” Dagon said, Crowley came back into awareness, shaking his head frantically. “Oh no, you don’t get to back out now.”

Crowley tried to brace himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he was never ready for The Bucket. He clamped his mouth shut, and Dagon grabbed his jaw and wrenched it open.

Hastur returned with a large yellow bucket. The smell of shit and sewage permeated the room, and Dagon grinned. “He’s all ready for you, Hastur.”

“Okay, bath time!” Hastur said gleefully. He came forward and poured the contents of the bucket on Crowley’s head.

Crowley gagged and goosebumps rose all over his body. Not only was the bucket filled with shit and sewer water, but said sewer water was freezing cold. He could feel bits of flotsam in his hair, running down his face, and into his open mouth. He gagged and choked, spitting.

Hastur smiled and patted his knee. “There, all nice and clean like the piece of shit you are. Hey, Dagon, you think there might be some clients that would want pictures?”

“That is very good thinking, Hastur. I trust you have your camera?”

“Nah, but I can got get it.” He left the room and returned with his camera. “Think we should clean his face off?”

“No, just take the pictures.”

The camera clicked, but Crowley barely registered it. He had gone back to the apple orchard. Angel blushed as Crowley leaned in, his lips a centimeter away…

Something crashed to the floor. It took a very long time for Crowley to realize the something was the chair he was tied to. Ligur had kicked it out from under him, sending him toppling hard onto the cold concrete. “What did we fucking tell you, **Crawley?** You don’t fall asleep. You pay attention when we’re having our bit of fun with you. Otherwise it’s not fun for us. Now, since you’re down there, I think maybe you need to learn your place again. Now, where was it you got hurt? Oh, that’s right...” Ligur brought his foot back and kicked Crowley hard in the spine. The pain was so intense that Crowley stopped breathing for a second. Ligur smiled and kicked him again, this time in the hip. Crowley shrieked and tried to curl himself into a fetal position, but the ropes hindered him. Ligur brought his foot down on Crowley’s leg. “You know, if I wanted to, I could break these pretty legs and make you crawl around this room. There’s clients that would love pictures or even video of a pretty thing like you crawling like the snake you are. But Dagon doesn’t like anything that might be permanent or disfiguring on you. You’re much more valuable to us. And besides, as Bee points out, anything that lasts could mean that you might try to go to the cops and expose us, and we can’t have that, can we?”

Crowley could only whimper. Hastur snickered. “Think maybe he’s starting to get tired, Liggy. That’s too bad, because we’re not even winded.  Though I think maybe the chair’s done for. You wanna string him up? Do a bit of whipping?” 

Crowley whined and moaned, shaking his head in a paroxysm of mortal terror. “No please no please...”

The two men came over, untying the knots. Crowley struggled weakly, still begging. Hastur and Ligur dragged him over to the middle of the room, throwing the rope around the beam in the ceiling and retying Crowley so that his toes barely touched the floor and his arms were stretched painfully above his head. Dagon nodded approval. “Now remember, nothing that could leave a bruise. We don’t want to spoil the merchandise.”

Ligur grinned, went to the table, and picked up a small whip with barbed ends. He ran his fingers almost lovingly over the barbs. “You first, my sweet.”

Crowley couldn’t even scream as the barbs dug into his chest. Dagon had shoved a piece of rope so deep into his mouth that he was choking on the fibers. He hung there, a slab of bloody meat, as his tormentors had their fun. 

“Okay, that’s good for today. Ligur, cut him down and revive him, please. Hastur, bring the photos to my office and we’ll see which ones are worth putting on the site.” 

Crowley was brought brutally back into awareness when Ligur dumped him into a bathtub full of ice cold water. The shock to his system was almost too much, and he began convulsing. Ligur pinned him down, forcing his head underwater, and Crowley struggled. Just as his vision began to go black, Ligur yanked him to the surface. “Hold still, Crawley. Now, you be a good boy and get cleaned up, then you can go home. You should be happy, you know. We got enough pics from that little session to put us in gravy for the next six months. You’re a star, you know.” Ligur cackled evilly and left, turning off the lights and leaving Crowley alone in the cold and the dark. 

He somehow managed to find the rough washcloth, and after a bit of fumbling, found a sliver of soap on the edge of the tub.  He gingerly cleaned his wounds, biting his tongue to keep from making any sound. He knew that if he did, he would face the consequences. The tub grew warmer, and as he cleaned himself, he recalled the events that had led him to being used as an outlet for the sick appetites of Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon. 

He had just started working here when he had overheard Doris, one of the models, screaming for help. Crowley had run down the hall and burst into one of the rooms, stopping dead at the sight before him. Doris was trussed up in a chair, naked, a gag shoved in her mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was shaking her head back and forth. Ligur was in front of her, a cane that Crowley would come to know intimately in his hand. “I told you, you fucking bitch, you don’t get to say no. We own you, we can do what we want.” He lifted the cane up, and Crowley had darted forward and grabbed his arm. 

“Don’t you touch her, you piece of shit!”

Ligur had smiled, and Crowley’s insides turned to water. “Tell you what, Crawley. I’ll let the bitch go, but you’re gonna have to take her place. Otherwise I’ll keep on doing what I was doing until she’s not so pretty. Hell, I’ll even promise not to mess that pretty face of yours up too much. Sluts like her are a dime a dozen, but you...bosses seem to think there’s something special about you. Maybe that’s why they don’t push the drugs on you so hard.”

Crowley had gulped. “If..I agree to...let you do this, you have to...promise not to touch any of them.”

Ligur grinned. “Scout’s honor, Crawley. We’ll never touch anyone but you. Ever.”

Crowley stumbled out of the tub, his legs shaking. He limped out of the bathroom and slowly made his way down the corridor to what passed for his ‘dressing room’, ignoring the whispers that followed him. All the models knew what he was doing to protect them, and as drugged up as the majority of them were, they knew that they owed him their lives. 

Crowley nearly fell when he reached his dressing room. He staggered over to the chair, missed, and fell in a heap on the floor. The hard landing reopened the wounds, and Crowley sobbed. He needed his pills, but they were on the table and he couldn’t lift a finger, let alone stand up to get them. He could feel himself starting to black out. 

Someone shoved his pill bottle in his hands, and he looked through pain-deadened eyes at Rosa,  one of the models . She smiled at him, her blue eyes surprisingly clear. “It was bad this time, huh?” 

Crowley dry swallowed the pills. “It’s...bad...all...time.” He managed. Rosa nodded. 

“You don’t have to do this, Anthony.”

Crowley shook his head and gently touched her raven black hair. “Yes, I do. I can’t have any of you hurt.  Rosa, please...for your sake, for your soul’s sake, get out of here. My soul’s tarnished beyond repair already. I’ve had too much done to me to ever be clean again. But you...all the others, they have a chance. Get out, get off the shit Dagon and Bee force on you, and never look back.” 

“We can’t, Anthony, you know we can’t. Remember what happened to Margo?”

Crowley didn’t want to. Margo, a pretty blonde with gorgeous green eyes, had threatened to go to the papers and expose the agency. She had been found a week later, her head bashed in so bad that dental records were needed to identify her. “Yeah. Oh, god, Rosa, how did this happen...” Crowley began sobbing in earnest, and Rosa pulled him close, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. 

Hours later, Crowley stumbled into his flat. Oreo was sleeping, curled up in his puppy bed, nose twitching as he dreamed his puppy dreams. Crowley carefully knelt next to him, running a finger down his back. “Hope you’re having good dreams, sweetie.” He limped to his bathroom and turned on the shower, setting it as hot as he could stand it, then stripped. He had to take several deep breaths in preparation before he stepped under the pounding spray. 

The hot water hit his wounds and he braced himself against the wall to keep from screaming.  He bit his tongue and grabbed his washcloth and soap. The water turned from clear to pink as he bathed the wounds that had been reopened. 

He stepped out, wrapping himself gingerly in the large towel, then limped to his sofa, collapsing onto it with a high whine of pain. 

Oreo’s ears perked up, and he came bounding over, tail wagging. Crowley patted the sofa, and Oreo jumped up, placing his head in Crowley’s lap, tail beating a happy tattoo. Crowley scratched his ears, marveling as always at how Oreo seemed to know instinctively when he could be in Daddy’s lap and play and when he couldn’t. From the very start, Oreo had just..known. He could be rambunctious, since he was only five months old, but he seemed to have an innate sense of when Crowley was hurting. He would do just as he was doing now, jump onto the sofa and put his head in Crowley’s lap,  letting his daddy stroke his back as he calmed down. 

Crowley picked his mobile off the table, idly deciding that maybe he should check his messages. He opened the voice mail. Three messages blinked at him. The first one was someone wanting to sell him aluminum siding. That got deleted. The second was from a local politician hoping that Crowley would vote for him. That got the middle finger before it got deleted. The third one…

“Hello, Crowley? It’s Aziraphale. I’m sorry I missed you, but I wanted to tell you how excited I am for Saturday. I looked up the cafe’s name, and I must say, you have excellent taste when it comes to drinks. I also noticed that they have pastries. I adore pastries. Some might say a bit too much, but you only live once, so why not make the most of it, right? I can’t wait to tell you of what I got up to in Paris once. It’s far too juicy to convey over the phone. Oh, and I do trust that you will have at least a dozen pictures of Oreo for me to gush over. Or you could bring him along! The cafe is dog friendly, according to their site, and I would so love to meet him. I love dogs. Oh, dear, I’ve probably gone on for far too long. It’s a bad habit of mine. Anyway, I cannot wait for Saturday. Goodbye, my dear.” 

Crowley rewound and replayed the message over and over, tears of hope and happiness pouring down his face. 


	4. Saturday Morning Fun Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley, Aziraphale, and Oreo spend the day together.

Chapter Four: Saturday Morning Fun Time

The second Crowley’s alarm went off, he catapulted himself out of bed and into the shower. He was feeling giddy. He was ecstatic. He was...he was…

He was **happy.**. Happier and more excited than he had been in a very long while. Today was Saturday! Today he got to go see Aziraphale, and they would have coffee and cocoa and pastries, and Aziraphale would be as sweet and as wonderful as he was in Crowley’s dreams. He would never judge him for his work, and he would smile that smile that Crowley had only seen once but was already addicted to. 

“Earth Angel, earth angel, please be mine...” Crowley sang into the shower head, shimmying his hips a bit, a wide grin on his face and a light in his eyes. He washed, then got dried off, and still humming happily, nearly skipped to his closet to pick out the perfect outfit. 

Oreo had come into the room and was sprawled out on the bed, tail wagging as he watched his daddy twirled around the room. Crowley came over and kissed him. “Oh, Oreo, sweetie, Daddy loves you so much! You wanna go meet Daddy’s friend? Wanna go to the cafe?”

Oreo’s entire body wiggled as he tried to give his daddy a good morning lick. Crowley laughed and let him. “Such a good boy you are, yes you are! Let Daddy get dressed and we’ll go, okay?”

Crowley glanced at his phone. He had set the alarm for ten thirty, just in case he was having one of his flare ups and needed to take his pills. It was a quarter to eleven, and Crowley knew from experience that it took almost ten minutes to walk to the cafe. Factor in another ten to get dressed(if he could stop grinning like a loon and skipping around the bedroom), and that should mean that he would arrive at the cafe bang on time. 

He rifled through his clothes, choosing a dark red button up shirt, a pair of black trousers, and  his silver tie scarf. He thought about tying up his hair, but instead he brushed it out, letting it fall down his back. He slipped on a pair of black trainers and went to the door, taking Oreo’s leash off its hook. “Oreo!” 

Oreo came bounding over, ecstatic at the prospect of going walkies. Crowley clipped the leash to Oreo’s collar and together they set off for the cafe, a skip still in Crowley’s step. 

Aziraphale, in the meanwhile, was in a very similar mood. He had awoken much earlier than Crowley, and had spent the time organizing and reorganizing his fabric samples, selecting and rejecting outfits to wear, and hoping that he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of the most gorgeous man he’d ever met in his life. Aziraphale wanted this to work. He really, really hoped Crowley wanted that too. 

He checked Google Maps for what felt like the hundredth time, making sure that he had the route to the cafe down pat. He finally chose his outfit-a chambray blue shirt and tan  trousers , with a cream colored waist coat(all made by Fell’s Finery, of course) and, heart beating in anticipation, headed out into the streets. It was a lovely day, and he smiled at everyone who passed by him. 

It took him a little over ten minutes to make it to the cafe, and as he rounded the corner he heard the unmistakable sound of a puppy barking. The next thing he heard was, “Oreo, sit down.”

Aziraphale gulped. Crowley was sitting at one of the tables in the outdoor section, a smile on his face  and a small black and white puppy sitting beside him that could only be Oreo .  Crowley was even more beautiful than he had been the day Aziraphale met him, with his soft red hair and shy smile. The tailor came over, and the black and white puppy barked a happy bark and tried to jump over his head. “Well, hello. You must be Oreo. You’re a gorgeous one, aren’t you?” Aziraphale cooed, kneeling down. Oreo’s body wiggled, and his tail was a blur. Aziraphale gave him a pet, and Oreo did his best to wash Aziraphale’s face. 

“Oreo, manners.” Crowley said a bit sternly. Oreo backed off, tail still going a mile a minute. “Sorry ‘bout that. If you need to go wash your face, I’ll understand.”

Aziraphale stood, brushing off his trousers. “Nonsense, my dear.” He slid into the seat across from Crowley. It was surprisingly comfortable. “How are you this morning?” 

“Good. I um...yeah, I’m good. You?” 

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m good as well. Now, you said this place has good cocoa?” 

Crowley blushed, looking down at the table. “Um. Well, you know, I haven’t...haven’t tried it myself, but I’ve heard they do, and um...did you want me to go order? Or you can do it...I’m not really um...I mean, I don’t know what you like, and I don’t...” He clenched his fists, trying to keep his breathing even. A gentle hand on his made him look up. 

“I’ll go order for us. How do you like your coffee?” 

“Black as night and bitter as my soul.” Crowley said, trying for levity. Aziraphale nodded. 

“I’ll be right back, my dear.” He left the table, and Crowley dug his fists into his eyes. He was fucking up. He knew it, he knew that he would fuck it up, that his anxiety and trauma would never deign to leave him alone for five fucking seconds, that no matter how hard he tried to act like he was a normal person with a normal job and life, the truth was that he was nothing but a worthless piece of shit fit only to be used, abused, and tossed aside, and Aziraphale would figure that out, and he would hate Crowley, he would despise him for what he was, a worthless, useless waste who didn’t deserve…

“Crowley? My dear, is everything alright?” Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, who held a tray with two mugs and a selection of pastries. He set the tray down and scooted his chair so he was next to Crowley. “Crowley, whatever is the matter?” 

“’M not worth it.” Crowley said, his voice nearly on the brink of tears. “I’m...nothing. Less than nothing. If I didn’t have Oreo to look after, I’d step in front of a train and end it. I can’t...can’t do this. I can’t let you...you should um, just get your stuff to go. I’m foul, I’m dirty, I’m...”

“Look at me.” Aziraphale’s voice was firm, and Crowley looked up. The hopelessness in his eyes nearly broke the tailor’s heart. “You are not nothing. You are a person. You deserve happiness, and friendship. I want to be your friend, Crowley. Will you let me?”

“You don’t...you don’t know what you’re asking me. I’m not...Aziraphale, please, for your sake, before you find out what I am, please just...leave. I can’t...I can’t bear you looking at me when you find out.”

Aziraphale sighed in slight exasperation. “Find out what? Are you wanted by the police? Have you committed any sort of crime? Are you secretly married and wanting me for your, well, I’m not sure what the male equivalent of a mistress would be?” 

That got a small smile. “No.”

“Are you planning on inducting me into your sinister cult where you worship some weird deity and have orgies every full moon?”

This time Crowley giggled. “No.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Darn, was hoping that was the case. But in all seriousness, I don’t see any sort of hindrance to us being friends. I do, however, see one big factor.”

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I happen to like you. Quite a bit.  I want to get to know you better. So what do you think?”

Crowley gulped. “I think...you’re making a mistake, but I’m not going to stop you. And..I really like you too.”

“Splendid. Now, shall we have our breakfast?” Crowley nodded, blushing. 

The cocoa, much to Aziraphale’s delight, was splendid. The pastries were well baked with plenty of fillings. Oreo got to sample a bit of everything except for the drinks. To make up for it, Crowley went and got him a paper cup of cream, which he eagerly lapped up, getting cream on the top of his head in his eagerness. Aziraphale let him jump in his lap. Crowley blinked at him. “Aren’t you worried about your clothes?”

“My dear, I have stuff in my shop that can get blood out of clothes. Dog hair is nothing.”

Crowley smirked. “Blood, huh?”

Aziraphale glared at him. “I work with sharp objects, Crowley. I’m bound to cut myself once in a while.”  Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly. “Really, you are the limit.”

“I try. So, um...I know I just asked you for coffee, but I was wondering if maybe...I need to take Oreo for his morning walk, and well, you can come along, if you want. It’s um, the park’s just around the corner.”

Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley felt as though he had caught a face full of sun. “I’d be delighted!” 

“Good. That’s...that’s good. Oreo, down.” Oreo reluctantly climbed off Aziraphale’s lap and trotted over to Crowley, who reclipped his leash and stood. “Walk along.” 

Oreo pranced next to Crowley, head high and tail erect. Aziraphale watched him walk. “He’s remarkably well trained.”

Crowley smiled. “Yeah. It was amazing. He like just..clicked with everything. He even knows...when I’m having a flare up.” Aziraphale looked over at him. “I um...was in a really bad accident a few years ago. Hit and run. I’d been in a nightclub, and was coming out, heading for home. I stepped off the kerb, and the next thing I see is a pair of headlights. I woke up in hospital three days later with a shattered pelvis and two broken legs. Turns out I had been run down by some drunk lorry driver headed home after one too many pints. The guy plead guilty to drunk driving and got a slap on the wrist, while I got months of therapy and life long pain. I also...” Crowley shook his head. “I can’t...tell you this bit. Not here.” 

“I’m just happy you trust me enough to tell me that much.” Aziraphale said gently. “Crowley? May I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, it’s silly, but...would you mind terribly if I held your hand?” Aziraphale asked, a shy grin on his face. Crowley gaped at him.

“Uh...y...yeah. I mean, yes, you can hold my hand.” He reached out his free hand toward Aziraphale, who grasped it in his own. Crowley twined his fingers around Aziraphale’s softer ones, and a small smile broke out on the tailor’s face. 

“Oh. Oh, we fit rather nicely together, don’t we?” Aziraphale said giddily. Crowley couldn’t answer. He was too caught up in the perfection of Aziraphale’s soft, warm hand in his own. He gave Aziraphale’s hand a soft squeeze instead. 

They walked around the park, hands entwined. Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, then back to the path, his mind whirling. “Do you wanna spend the day together?” He blurted out as they rounded a corner. Aziraphale blinked, then beamed the sunshine beam. 

“I would love to. May Oreo join us?”

Crowley laughed as Oreo barked happily. “Well, I suppose. It’s a gorgeous day, so we can do some outdoor things. Hey, you know there’s a market just down the road. Has the best jams you’ll ever try. You like jam, Angel?” 

“Angel?” Aziraphale asked, blushing. Crowley gasped in horror.

“God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that, it’s just, you’re so nice, and gentle, and you look like one, what with the hair, and...”

“I don’t mind. And to answer your question, I adore jam. Especially on a scone with some clotted cream.” 

Crowley smirked. “Jam goes on first.”

Aziraphale gasped, his hand on his chest. “How very dare you, sir,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Every proper Briton knows that for it to be a proper scone, the cream must go on first. It keeps the scone from going soggy.”

Crowley shook his head, trying not to grin. “No, see, that’s why you put the jam on first. Get all the flavor into the scon e, and then the cream is there to enhance the flavor.”

“I cannot believe I am actually choosing to be friends with someone who is so very wrong about the proper way to eat a scone. Next you’ll be telling me you heat your tea in the microwave.” 

Crowley gasped in mock affront. “I would never! I may be uncouth, but I still have standards.” Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley joined in. “’Sides, I don’t even drink tea.”

The market was bustling by the time they arrived. Aziraphale and Crowley went from stall to stall, and Aziraphale sampled a bit of everything. He ended up purchasing three aubergines, a courgette, some rocket, a bushel of strawberries, and two pints of raspberries. He also picked up a meat pie for later. 

The jam stall was packed full, and Aziraphale wound his way through the crowd, excusing and pardoning himself, until he reached the counter. Jams of all flavors and colors sat in glass jars of all shapes on rows of wooden shelves. The owner of the stall, a tall woman with wiry gray hair, grinned at him. “Hi. Haven’t seen you before.”

Aziraphale beamed. “I’m afraid I didn’t know about this lovely place until just this morning. My friend said that there was a stall here that had jam that was unparalleled. He insisted I come and see.” 

The woman grinned wider. “This friend of yours, he happen to be a tall redhead?” Aziraphale nodded, and the woman laughed. “That’s Tony, alright. He’s responsible for about eighty percent of my  business . First day I set up here, about...oh, a month ago, I  was doing pretty good, mostly selling strawberry jam, things like that . Then this tall drink of water with bright red hair comes sauntering up, a cute little puppy on a leash, and asks me if I make hot pepper jam. Well, turned out that I had just canned up a batch of my ghost pepper jam-this one right here” -(the woman placed a jar on the counter that held a jam that was green in color with red flakes and had a picture of a cartoon pepper on it) “So I’m expecting him to take a little bit of the sample and taste it, like everyone else. Instead he scoops up a blob the size of my head and shoves it in his mouth.”

“It was not the size of your head.” Crowley had come up to the counter. Oreo yipped, and the stall owner reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a biscuit. Oreo’s ears perked up and he whined. “Oreo, you know what to do. Sit for Agnes.” Oreo sat, and the woman-Agnes-tossed him the biscuit. He caught it. “Oreo, did you actually taste that at all? Anyway, Angel, don’t believe a word this witch tells you. I took a small amount of jam. A very small bit. Agnes loves to go heavy on the peppers, that’s all.” 

Agnes snorted. “Small amount my pinafore. You were running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I’m surprised you didn’t go over to the Grovers’ stall and grab one of their milks and chug it down. Anyway...” she glanced at Aziraphale.

“Oh, do forgive me. Aziraphale Fell.” They briefly shook hands, and Agnes continued. 

“Anyway, Genius here finally got feeling back in his mouth and bought five jars. Next week he comes back and asks if I have anything that’s not so spicy, but not...how was it you put it? Dead boring?” 

Crowley laughed, examining a jar of wild berry jalapeno jam. “Something like that, yeah. This is what you gave me.” He set the jam on the counter. “Angel, you can pick something out, you know.”

“Oh, I’m quite old fashioned when it comes to jam. I do so love a good raspberry or blackberry.”

Agnes beamed. “Well, I may have just the thing for you.” She got down a small jar filled with a dark red jam. “This is my wild berry jam, sans the jalapeno. It’s got raspberries, blackberries, and a bit of strawberries.”  She opened the jar and got out a small plastic spoon, scooping some out and handing it to Aziraphale. 

Crowley watched, transfixed, as Aziraphale slid the spoon past those soft, plump lips. Then he nearly dropped the jar he was holding when Aziraphale let out a moan that would make a porn star blush. “Ngk.” 

Aziraphale licked up the last bits of jam. “That is absolutely scrummy. I will take some of that, for sure. Do you have any others I might like?”

Agnes grinned. “You know, I just might.”

“So what do you think? Want to come back here next week?” Crowley asked as they headed away from the market, laden down with bags. Aziraphale was happily munching on honey roasted peanuts and sipping occasionally from a to go glass of home made cherry soda. 

“Oh, I’d love to! I hardly got to try anything at the dairy stall. They had some wonderful looking cheeses, and the vegetables, and I didn’t get to try the rye bread because it wasn’t baked yet, and...”

“Yeah, it’s one of those places that you can go to a hundred times and still find something new every time. I buy most of my food from here.” Crowley paused. “Tell you what. My flat’s right around the corner. Why don’t we drop these bags off, then we won’t be having to haul them around everywhere?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.” 

After dropping off the bags, and making sure to put anything perishable into the fridge, Crowley and Aziraphale headed back out, Oreo in tow. “So, Angel, you decide this time. What would you like to do?” 

“Well, St. James’ is down this way, right?” Crowley nodded. “I’d like to go there, if we could.”

“St. James it is.” 

They went to the park and sat on a bench by one of the many ponds. Aziraphale had some dried peas in his pocket for the ducks(“Bread is bad for them”). The ducks came flocking, and Oreo was so excited to chase them that he slipped his collar and ran pell mell into the pond, barking his head off. Crowley had to wade in after him. He picked up the wet, happy, squirming puppy, giving him a stern glare. “You are getting a B A T H when we get home, mister.” 

Aziraphale was too busy trying to catch his breath from laughter to speak. 

After the park, they walked down the streets, looking in the windows. They had lunch at an outdoor cafe(not the same one as breakfast). Aziraphale had a roast beef sandwich with tomato soup and Crowley had fish and chips. Oreo got  minced beef and some water. “ So, how are you enjoying your day so far?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley beamed. 

“Honestly? This has been the best fucking day of my life so far. And I know it’s early but...could I tempt you to have dinner with me?”

Aziraphale wiggled. “Temptation accomplished.”


	5. Drowning in You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reaches his Nadir. Luckily, Aziraphale is there to pull him back up.

Chapter Five: Drowning In You

Crowley focused all his being inward. ‘ _Don’t think about where you are. Don’t think about what’s happening. Think of Saturday. Think of your standing date with Aziraphale. Two more days, and you’ll see him. You can make it. Saturday. Saturday...Sat..’_

“Fucking hell, he’s blanking out again! Ligur, wake his ass up so I can enjoy myself!” Hastur growled. Crowley was brought back into brutal, painful awareness when Ligur threw a bucket of ice water all over him. Crowley screeched in agony, since Ligur had gone the extra mile and made sure it was icy **salt** water. His wounds re opened, and the blood flowed. 

Crowley was currently chained to a metal contraption that Ligur fondly called ‘The Butterfly’. It spread Crowley’s arms and legs out wide, well past the point of comfort, and forced his head to stay upright via a vice. Small, sharp pieces of metal dig into his bare flesh, so that no matter how hard he struggled, he would still get cut. Hastur came over, a wet towel in his hands. “You know we don’t like it when you fall asleep, Crawley. It’s no fun. So you’re gonna get the towel.”

Crowley whimpered. “No please I...” He gagged as Ligur came over and shoved a metal bar with sharp studs into his mouth. Hastur patted his cheek almost fondly, smiling at the terror in the redhead’s eyes. 

“There now. All nice and quiet. And hey, you know what? I got some good news. Well, good for us. We got some clients that expressed interest in seeing you on camera. So...look over there, Crawley.” He pointed to the far corner. Crowley’s eyes tracked his movement. A camera was mounted on the wall. Hastur grinned. “That’s live, to our website, right now. And...” Hastur dug out his mobile. “Wow, a thousand hits already. You’re a star, Crawley. So, why don’t we give these people some more of what they want? Hmm?”

Crowley could only whimper around the copper taste of blood in his mouth as Hastur and Ligur went to work once more. ‘Please. Please let someone see this and realize it’s not fake. Please.’ 

He went into his mind again, thinking of the time he had spent with Aziraphale. So far, they had been on three Saturday ‘dates’ in as many weeks. They had gone to the market, of course(Agnes and Aziraphale were now firm friends, and when Agnes had found out who Aziraphale was, she had demanded that he make her a dress, something he was more than happy to do), but they had also gone to the planetarium, where Aziraphale had listened raptly as Crowley rambled on and on about the stars, to every park they could find, and to pretty much every outdoor cafe within walking distance. After all, they couldn’t leave Oreo behind. They had also gone to dinner(they did have to leave Oreo behind then, but he got Crowley’s leftovers to make up for it). 

But the more time Crowley spent with Aziraphale, the more he looked forward to this one day, the worse things seemed in between. Hastur and Ligur had always been sadistic fucks, but their sadism, approved by Dagon and ignored by Bee, seemed to take on new levels. They brought in new contraptions, new devices specifically made to inflict as much agony on Crowley as they could. They would beat him with icy towels, gag him with anything that could cut and make him bleed, and once they hooked cathodes up to his chest and shocked him until he passed out. They dunked him in tubs of ice-filled water, holding him under until he was blacking out. Once, they tied him to a chair and poured buckets of fire ants on him, watching and laughing as he screamed in pain from the bites.  And all of it got recorded, got put on the site. 

Crowley slumped in his restraints, more blood than flesh. He was only vaguely aware that he was being unchained, and didn’t even try to protest as he was dragged down the hall and into the ‘bathroom’, where the tub of ice water sat waiting. He let out a feeble grunt as he was dumped in. 

As always, the shock of the water brought him back into some semblance of awareness. He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. The room was pitch dark and freezing. Whimpering from the effort, Crowley picked the rough cloth off the rim of the tub and got to work cleaning up as best as he could. He made sure to rinse the cloth, knowing that if he didn’t, his punishment would be severe. 

He nearly fell twice getting out of the tub. There was no towel-there never was-so Crowley limped, naked and still throbbing with pain, to his dressing room. Once inside, he managed to sit in his chair. He grabbed his bottle of pills and dry swallowed two of them. As he started to put the bottle back, he stopped. The pills were supposed to stop pain. Maybe...maybe it was time to see what more could do. He didn’t have enough here, but at home...he had plenty at home. He got dressed, whimpering, then pocketed the bottle and headed out. 

When he got to his flat, he went straight to his medicine cabinet. Sure enough, he had an entire bottle of pills. They looked so...comforting, so welcoming. They would stop his pain. Stop it for good. He wouldn’t have to go to Hell ever again. No one could ever hurt him. He would be...different. He would be happy, and he would be...free. 

Oreo, sensing something was seriously wrong(Daddy hadn’t come over and given him a hello kiss, and Daddy always did that) came over, whining. Crowley was sitting on the sofa, a bottle of wine in front of him and his pills in his hand. “Go away. Oreo. I don’t want you to see this. Daddy’s...he’s got to go somewhere. He can’t...won’t be able to watch you anymore. I’m gonna...you like Angel, right? You can go live with him. Angel won’t mind watching you. I should uh..call and tell him. Don’t want to spring it on him.” He  picked up his mobile and pulled up Aziraphale’s number. After a few rings, the tailor answered, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Crowley? Dear, why are you calling me at two in the morning?”

Crowley nearly lost his composure at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice. “I...called to say goodbye. I...I’ve really loved the time we’ve spent together, but um...I won’t be able to do it anymore. I have a request, though. Oreo, he um...really loves you, and I don’t want him going to a stranger, so could you take him?”

Every trace of sleep was gone from Aziraphale’s voice. “Crowley, what are you doing?!”

Crowley stared at the pills. “I’m making it stop. The hurt, the pain, everything. It’s okay, Angel. Things will be better, you’ll see. They won’t...I won’t be hurting. I won’t...drag you down. Really, this is best for everyone. I’m a waste of a person, a nothing. The world won’t notice me gone. Now I don’t..um..don’t know how long it’s going to take, so...goodbye.”

“Crowley, NO...” Crowley hung up and threw his mobile across the room. He took a breath, then popped a large handful of pills into his mouth, chasing them with a swallow of wine. “Should...go in the bedroom. Can lie down.” He stood and staggered to his bedroom, Oreo following. “No, Oreo. Go to your bed. Go.” 

Oreo whined. Something was very wrong. He wished that Other Daddy was here. Daddy was always so happy when Other Daddy was around. Daddy smelled scared. Oreo didn’t like it. 

A fusillade of knocks made Oreo start barking. “Crowley, open this door right now! Please, open up!” 

Crowley slumped on the bed. He could feel the pills taking effect. It was nice. Peaceful. It was…

**BANG**

“Crowley! Oh god, please no...Crowley, open your eyes! Please, look at me!”

Crowley cracked open one eye. “Zirphle? No. Go ‘way.”

Aziraphale was panting in anger. “I most certainly will not! How many pills did you take?!”

“Dunno. Bunch.”

“Damn it! Sit up! Now!” Aziraphale barked, and Crowley, startled at the display of anger from the normally placid blond, sat up. Aziraphale dug out his mobile and dialed 999. “Yes, hello! My friend just took a bunch of painkillers! Please, send somebody!” He gave Crowley’s address, then paused, listening to the dispatcher. “I don’t know. Crowley, did you drink anything?”

Crowley blinked. “S’me wine.” He started to slump again, and Aziraphale slapped him across the face. “OW!”

“Stay awake, you understand me?! Yes, he had some wine. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” He hung up, then turned to Crowley. “Okay, medics are on the way.”

“No. Don’t need them. Want to go back to sleep.” Crowley whined. “Shouldna...come.”

“If you think,” Aziraphale said in a trembling voice, “that I am just going to stand by while you try to...Crowley, you can’t leave me. I need you.”

Crowley shook his head. “No. No one needs me. I’m not worth needing. I’m ugly, broken. I was...I never...I was on top, long time ‘go. Now I...they hurt me. I want it to stop. I want it all to stop.” He reached out and touched Aziraphale’s cheek. “Go. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I’ll be free from them. You won’t miss me. No one will.” 

Aziraphale was sobbing. “No, Crowley, please...just...stay awake, please...” A sound made him turn. “IN HERE!”

The medics came in, and Aziraphale stepped aside, tears flowing down his face. He prayed frantically to a deity he no longer fully believed in that it wasn’t too late. 

Crowley opened his eyes to white. If this was Heaven, he thought, it’s highly overrated. He blinked, and things started to come into focus. He was in a white room, in a bed. So not Heaven, but a hospital. There was someone sitting in a chair next to him. Someone with long dark hair. “’Thema?” Crowley croaked. 

Anathema looked up. “Crowley! Oh, thank the goddess!” She launched herself at him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. When she pulled away, Crowley could see the angry and relieved tears in her eyes. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?! EVER!”

“Where...Zira…?”

Anathema sniffled. “He’s coming later. Doc told him to go home, get some rest. He hasn’t left your side since you were brought in last night.”

Crowley gulped. “He...he found me. Came over and found me. I...Ana, I have to tell him, don’t I?” She nodded. “I can’t. He’ll hate me, when he finds out...he...I c...can’t.” Crowley sobbed, hugging himself. 

Ana looked over at the door. “Why don’t you let him decide that for himself?” 

Crowley jerked upright. “Ziraphle…?” 

Aziraphale came into the room  and walked over to the bed. “You...BASTARD!” Crowley blinked. Aziraphale’s chest was heaving. “You unbelievable bastard. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to walk into my life, make these couple months the most wonderful I’ve ever had in a very long time, make me the happiest I’ve ever been, and then just...leave. You don’t get to do that, do you understand me?!  You selfish bastard, you don’t get to take that from me.” Aziraphale let out a long, heartbroken sob. “I can’t lose you.”

Crowley was crying too. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt so worthless, please don’t be mad, Angel, please, I’ll tell you everything. Just...I wanna go home. I don’t want to be here.”

“Very well, but I’m staying with you until I can be sure you won’t try this again.” Aziraphale said in a tone that booked no argument. Crowley nodded. 

It took a while for all the paperwork to go through, but eventually Crowley was able to leave. When they arrived back at Crowley’s flat, Oreo, who had been frantic when Daddy and Other Daddy left with the Strange People, greeted them both with exuberant glee. Crowley shuffled over to the sofa and sat, knees drawn up to his chest. Aziraphale sat next to him. “Crowley?”

“I..god, Angel, I can’t. I...on my laptop, over on the table. There’s a...folder. In it is the name of a...a website. There’s a username and password. It’s um...my bosses, they like for us to..be able to go on there to...um...answer comments, if we want. I don’t um...go on, not...ever. C..can’t..stand seeing myself...” 

Aziraphale went over to Crowley’s laptop, opening it up and turning it on. “Password?”

“Eden’s Serpent, all one word.” 

Aziraphale typed it in. “What’s the folder called?” He asked, watching the icons come on screen. 

Crowley’s laugh was harsh and full of pain. “Modeling jobs.” He took a breath. 

Aziraphale found the folder and wrote down the information inside, then pulled up the Internet and typed in the address. 

“I...it’s not going to be pretty, Angel.” 

Aziraphale frowned at the site. It looked to be for people with...odd fetishes. He scrolled. “I don’t...”

“Crawley. Click on that link.” 

Aziraphale clicked, and a gallery of images came up, some photo, some video. Above it in garish lettering read CRAWLEY’S FUN TIME. He clicked on the first photograph. “Oh my god...” 

Crowley spoke, a thousand yard stare in his eyes. “That was the first one Hastur and Ligur took. Tied me to the chair and whipped me bloody with their belts. See, at that point they were still...perfecting their technique. They got better, though. Or worse.”

Aziraphale made it through six more pictures, each worse than the last, before he slammed the laptop closed and went over to Crowley. “Oh, Crowley...”

Crowley was still staring straight ahead. “You’d think I’d be used to it, being kicked around. Got plenty of it as a kid from my drunk asshole dad. I used to be somebody, you know. A real model, walking the runway. Then I had my accident, and...poof. It was gone, and...and...” Aziraphale placed his arm around Crowley, and a dam that had been  erected three years ago finally broke. 

Crowley fell into the blond’s embrace, his entire body heaving as he sobbed hysterically. “I just wanted it to stop, Aziraphale. I wanted it to end. Why are you here?”

“Because...because I...” Aziraphale gulped, holding the shaking, sobbing Crowley. “Because I love you.”

Crowley blinked in shock. “W..what?” 

Aziraphale wiped away a tear with his thumb. “I love you.”

Crowley shook his head. “N..no, you can’t, I’m not...worth loving.”

“Oh, my darling, there is none worthier.” Aziraphale said softly, cupping Crowley’s face in his hands. “I love you as the moon loves the tides, as secret things are to be loved, between the shadow and the soul. You are so worth loving, Anthony Crowley. And if I have to, I will spend every minute of the day making you believe that.” 

“Aziraphale...this wasn’t supposed to happen, I wasn’t supposed to love you like this. When I first met you, I wouldn’t have ever imagined that you would be the one I would ache for, the one whose name leaves me with this nostalgic pain. You mean more to me than I ever expected, and it scares me to death. I love you so much, Angel, and I was so scared that if you found out what I was, what I have to endure, that you would look at me with disgust and pity. I could bear anything else, but not that. Never that.”

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale pressed a soft, loving kiss to his forehead. “Never. I love you.”

Crowley sobbed again, this time in happiness, and wrapped himself around Aziraphale. “Angel? Sleep with me? I mean..not..sex..I..literal sleep. In bed.”

“Of course, my love.”

Crowley pressed closer. “They um...Dagon, my boss, she...so long as no bruises are showing and I’m not um...bleeding from certain areas, she lets Hastur and Ligur do what they want. And boy, do they have...active imaginations. When...it’s over, and it can last for days sometimes...I get put in a tub full of ice water and have to ‘clean up’ with a piece of washcloth that scours my skin and a sliver of soap.”

Aziraphale stroked his spine. “Why do you…?”

“I have to. The other models, they’re all girls. Young. I can’t let them get hurt, not if I can protect them. They’re strung out on the drugs Dagon and Bee force on them, but...at least by letting Hastur and Ligur take out their...proclivities on me, I’m keeping them from the Hell I go through. Besides, we..none of us can leave.”

“What?” 

Crowley shuddered. “We...signed a contract. All of us. There was...one girl did try. Margo. She had dimples, and the prettiest blue eyes. Kinda like yours. She tried to leave. Told Dagon she was quitting, that she was going to go to the papers with evidence of abuse.” The redhead let out a sob. “When she was..found, her face was...gone. Her legs were broken, and she had been...violated. Repeatedly. After that, no one tried to leave.”

“Oh, sweetness...” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley began sobbing anew. “We’ll figure out something. I promise, I will help you find a way to get out of that horrible place.”

Crowley clung to him, and deep inside, a faint ray of hope began to light up. 


	6. Hope In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is slowly starting to gain hope.

Chapter Six: Hope In The Dark

Crowley felt as wrung out as an old rag. He had never cried so much or so hard in all his thirty two years. His exhaustion was bone-deep, and he felt like he had just run several marathons at once. He didn’t have a mirror on hand, but he was sure his face was all red and blotchy from the massive amount of tears he had shed. “I mus’ look a fright,” he murmured into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Pish, you look as beautiful as always,” Aziraphale said, pressing his lips to Crowley’s red hair. “You needed that, I think, my love. How do you feel?”

Crowley snuggled closer to the tailor, breathing in his scent. “Like I went two rounds with Muhammad Ali in his prime. But also better than I have in...well, ever. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling. Now, it’s been nearly a day since...the hospital, and I’m not sure about you, but I’m a bit peckish, and you need some food in you.”

Crowley shook his head and tightened his grip. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I hardly think walking to the kitchen and fixing us a quick snack counts as leaving. Besides, Oreo will keep you company until I come back. Won’t you?” Aziraphale asked the puppy, who barked happily and jumped into Crowley’s lap. Crowley held him close, letting Oreo lick his face and ears. “There you are.” Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s temple and went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and got out a large apple and a block of cheese that they had purchased at the market the previous Saturday. After a bit of hunting, he found a grater for the cheese. He got a knife from the block and sliced the apple into thin slices, placing a piece of cheese on each, then poured each of them a glass of fresh-pressed apple juice. He carried the plate and one of the glasses back to the sofa, setting them on the coffee table. “That’s for you. I’m going to get my drink and I’ll be back.” He retrieved his juice, then sat next to Crowley, who instantly wrapped his arms and legs around him, setting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Oreo adjusted himself so he was sprawled out across both their laps, his tail wagging.

Aziraphale picked up an apple slice. “Here. Eat.” Crowley opened his mouth. Aziraphale, a small smile on his face, fed him the apple. “Oh, so you’re just going to continue to cling to me and make me do all the work?”

“Yep. Don’t want to let you go. Cuz...if I let go, you’ll vanish. I’ll wake up, and you won’t be here, and...” Crowley was breathing hard. “I don’t want you to not be here, I want this to be real, but it can’t be, because I don’t deserve it to be real, I don’t deserve to be loved by you, so I’m making this up, and...”

Aziraphale stopped his tirade by placing his hand on Crowley’s mouth. “Hush. I’m real, my darling. You are not dreaming, and you deserve so much, more than I could ever give. But my love? I can give you all of that, my sweet one. All the love I have, that is yours. Give me your hand.” Puzzled, Crowley complied. Aziraphale took it and slid it under his shirt, pressing it against his heart. “You feel my heart, Crowley?” The redhead nodded. “That’s real. I am real. I love you.”

Crowley blinked, then with a cry of joy smashed his mouth against Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale kissed back, wrapping his arms around the other man.

The kiss wasn’t a sophisticated one. It was hungry, needy, and desperate. Crowley clung to Aziraphale like a life line, breathing him in. His angel’s lips were even softer and more perfect than he could ever have imagined. Aziraphale was making tiny little breathing sounds, and Crowley wanted-no, he **needed** more, so he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue lick the inside of Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale groaned and slid his own tongue into Crowley’s mouth. 

Oreo grunted as Crowley unceremoniously pushed him to the floor so he could climb into Aziraphale’s lap. He straddled the tailor, grinding against him, and Aziraphale moaned louder, bucking up into Crowley. He broke the kiss and pressed his lips against Crowley’s throat, sucking on the skin. “Crowley...oh god I want you...”

“Yes Aziraphale god yes please...” Crowley panted, gasping at the feel of Aziraphale’s lips on his neck. “I’m yours, Angel, now, forever, always, take me, please Angel take me...”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the shiver of animal desire that ran through him. “Are...are you sure?”

Crowley pulled back to look into his eyes. “I have spent three years feeling nothing but pain when someone else touched me. I need to remember that there’s other touches. I need you to remind me. Please, my angel, make me yours. Just for this one night, make me forget my pain. Make me believe, even it is just this one night, that I’m worthy of being loved.”

Aziraphale stroked his face. “Oh my  sweet darling, yes.” Crowley stood, and with a shy smile offered his hand. Aziraphale took it, and they went into the bedroom, Crowley closing the door behind him. 

“Aziraphale I...you should probably brace yourself, and um...if you change your mind, I’ll...understand.” Crowley said, eyes fixed on the ground. Aziraphale placed his hand under Crowley’s chin and tilted his head up. 

“I won’t change my mind, darling. What do I have to brace for?”

Crowley gulped, and in one swift movement, before he could change his mind, shed his shirt, tossing it into the corner. He shut his eyes, waiting for Aziraphale’s gasp of horror and disgust. 

Aziraphale did indeed gasp, but it was one of shock and pity. Crowley’s skin, both on his front and back, was covered with scars. Small ones, medium ones, large ones, they seemed to twist and twine around each other. Some looked like old burn scars, others looked like they were from knives, others from ropes, and a few that Aziraphale didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “Oh my love...”

Crowley braced himself for the inevitable rejection, waited for Aziraphale to tell him to put his shirt back on, that this had been a mistake, that Crowley was far too ugly to love, and…

Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his lips to a scar just above Crowley’s heart. “My love, you have suffered so. You are so brave, my darling, and so beautiful. Let me show you?”

Crowley whined deep in his throat and nodded. Aziraphale kissed another scar-this one above Crowley’s breastbone. “Get on the bed, my love. Take the rest of your clothes off.”

Crowley obeyed, shedding his trousers and pants, and laid back on the bed. He sat up on his elbows so he could watch Aziraphale undress, his eyes going darker with each patch of smooth skin the tailor revealed. Aziraphale was perfect, with wonderfully thick thighs, a lovely plump arse, and the most mouthwatering cock Crowley had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t wait to have that beautiful thickness inside him, filling him up. Aziraphale folded his trousers neatly, then came over and climbed into bed and on top of Crowley. He stroked Crowley’s hair, smiling down at him. “You are so beautiful. So exquisite.”

“M not. I might have been once, but now...” Crowley waved a hand to indicate the scars. Aziraphale shook his head. 

“No, my love, you are. What you have endured, it would have turned a lesser man than you into a monster as well. You put yourself through torture for three years to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. You are beautiful.” Aziraphale kissed him, and Crowley kissed back. After several blissful moments, Aziraphale pulled back. “Now, let me show you how beautiful you truly are.” 

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to a scar above his breastbone, then another to one just to the left. “So beautiful, so strong, my darling Crowley, how I love you...”

Crowley whimpered in happiness, tears flowing freely, as Aziraphale made his way down the redhead’s long, lean body, kissing and caressing every scar with a reverence that made Crowley feel like he was the object of holy worship. Aziraphale was whispering words of love and praise into Crowley’s skin, leaving the imprint of his lips on every inch. Aziraphale kissed his way down Crowley’s legs, then back up again, pressing his lips into Crowley’s inner thigh. Crowley whined. He was hard as a rock. “Aziraphale, please...”

Aziraphale smirked and nuzzled Crowley’s cock, breathing him in. God, but he was gorgeous. Aziraphale pressed his tongue against the underside, smiling to himself when Crowley yipped. “Tell me what you want, my dearest love. Tell me and I’ll give it to you, I’ll give everything to you.”

“Please suck me, Aziraphale, please. I need your mouth on my cock...” Crowley whined. He felt as though he wouldn’t be able to breathe until he was in Aziraphale’s mouth. His entire body throbbed with need. “Please...” he sobbed. 

“Oh my darling...” Aziraphale licked a long stripe up Crowley’s cock, then swallowed him down. Above him, Crowley howled in joy. 

“Oh Aziraphale, yes, god yes, I need you so much, I love you, I...JESUS FUCK!” Aziraphale had begun sucking in earnest, his mouth working Crowley’s cock, and the redhead could do nothing but hold on as the prissy blond tailor, the man who defined the word ‘fastidious’, gave him the most erotic and intense oral he had ever had in his entire life. Crowley had heard the phrase ‘sucked my brains out’ but he had never experienced it before. Aziraphale squeezed his thighs, and Crowley bucked up, eyes rolling in the back of his head as he fucked up into Aziraphale’s mouth. Rather than pulling back, Aziraphale increased his pace, and Crowley shrieked his name as he came, the entire world white. 

Aziraphale licked his lips, then made his way up Crowley’s body, making sure to kiss every inch of skin. Their lips met in a bruising kiss, and Crowley could taste himself on Aziraphale. The tailor’s hand was stroking Crowley’s cock. “You’re doing so beautifully for me, my darling. Tell me what you want, my gorgeous one..”

“You...inside...please...lube..top drawer.” Crowley pointed to a nightstand by the bed. Aziraphale retrieved the lube, popping open the cap. Crowley whined as Aziraphale coated his fingers. “Oh please Aziraphale...” He spread his legs as wide as he could, raising up so that his hole was exposed. “Please...”

“God, look at you.” Aziraphale said softly. “So gorgeous, so debauched beneath me.” He traced Crowley’s cleft with a lube-clad finger. “Crowley, I have to know. Were you...did they...”

Crowley  gulped. “They...no. There’s other things that are worse. But no, they never...raped me. Aziraphale, please, I need you...” 

Aziraphale kissed him softly on the lips. “You have me, my darling. Now and always.” He slid a finger inside Crowley’s hole, and Crowley groaned, pressing himself against the tailor. “Oh my love, you’re so perfect, so tight...” Aziraphale slid in another finger, and Crowley clenched around him, groaning. “So beautiful, so lovely, open up for me, my dearest darling...” He scissored his fingers, seeking the spot inside that would make Crowley fall apart. It didn’t take him long to find. Crowley howled. 

“Aziraphale, please fuck me I can’t stand this anymore I need you inside please please fuck me...”

Aziraphale had reached his limit as well. His cock was throbbing with the need to be inside Crowley. He slicked himself up, then lined up his cock with Crowley’s hole and pushed inside, a sob escaping his mouth at how perfect it felt. Crowley was heat and tightness, Aziraphale felt like he was engulfed in flames. Nothing could have prepared him for this perfection, for this paradise. Aziraphale had never experienced something this profound. This was going to be more than sex, he knew. This was going to be transcendent.

Crowley couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think anything beyond the fact that he had never felt as full as he did now. Aziraphale’s cock was filling every bit of him, and the heat and thickness of him was beyond perfect. Crowley was in Heaven.  He was in paradise, and he would never feel anything as beautiful as this, Aziraphale’s cock buried inside him, stretching him in a way that made Crowley’s entire body tremble. 

Then Aziraphale began to move. He went slow at first, letting Crowley get used to his bulk, but as Crowley whined and moaned encouragement, he went faster and faster, until he was slamming into Crowley at a pace that had them both panting. Crowley wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist, crying and begging for him to go harder, faster. Aziraphale braced himself against Crowley’s headboard and slammed into him over and over. Crowley shrieked his pleasure to the ceiling. Aziraphale reached down and grabbed Crowley’s throbbing cock, stroking it. “You’re so close, aren’t you, my darling? So close to falling apart...”

“Yes yes please Aziraphale...” Crowley had lost any semblance of coherent thought long ago. The only important thing was how blissfully wonderful Aziraphale was making him feel. “Need to come...”

Aziraphale continued to stroke him. “I’ve got you, my love, my sweet Anthony, fall apart for me, my darling...”

And Crowley did, Aziraphale’s name a shriek as he coated his chest with his come. Aziraphale came inside him moments later, and Crowley whined in joy at the feeling. Aziraphale swiped up Crowley’s come, and making sure the model was watching, licked his hand clean. Crowley gulped. “Jesus...”

Aziraphale smirked. “No, just Aziraphale.” He leaned forward and kissed Crowley’s lips. “How do you feel, my love?”

Crowley smiled up at him. “Better than I have for a long time. That was...god, that was the best I’ve ever had. Ever.”  He smiled shyly. “Could we...um...take a shower together?”

Aziraphale grinned. “Of course. Lead the way.” Crowley slid out of bed and offered his hand. Aziraphale took it, and Crowley lead him into the bathroom. There was a large shower, big enough for at least four people. “No tub?”

Crowley froze. “I uh...had it taken out. Once you’re forced into baths of ice water, you kinda...don’t...”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the shivering redhead from behind, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Forgive me, darling.” 

Crowley sighed. “Already did, Angel.” 

The shower was very nice. The water was just hot enough, and the shower head massaged Aziraphale quite nicely. But best of all, there was a bar to hold on to. That turned out to be very handy, because at some point(Aziraphale wasn’t sure when) Crowley slid to his knees, took Aziraphale in his mouth, and proceeded to do things with his mouth and tongue that had the tailor screaming his name and barely managing to stay upright. As it was, he was certain that he dented the bar with how hard he clutched it as he came down Crowley’s throat. He collapsed against the shower wall, legs shaking. “Oh god...”

“No, just Crowley.” Crowley said with a teasing smirk, and Aziraphale giggled. 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

They dried and dressed, and Crowley opened the bedroom door to let in Oreo, who had been whining for the past ten minutes. He jumped in between them, wagging his body and giving them puppy kisses. Aziraphale pulled Crowley close, and the redhead wrapped himself around the tailor. “I love you, Angel.” 

“I love you too. Darling we need to...”

Crowley shook his head. “In the morning. We’ll figure it all out in the morning. Now it’s time to sleep.” He began to close his eyes, and Aziraphale shook him. “Whuh?”

“I want you to promise me something. Don’t go back.”

Crowley took a breath. “Aziraphale, if I don’t...they’ll just hurt someone else. I can’t have that happen.”

“No, you can’t go back there! Crowley, why can’t you understand that?! This isn’t about protecting anyone, this is about you! This is about what they’re doing to you!”

“And would you rather it happen to someone else? Someone that might get killed?!”

“That...YOU NEARLY KILLED YOURSELF, CROWLEY! I ALMOST LOST YOU BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU! DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I AM GOING TO LET YOU GO BACK TO THE PLACE THAT BROKE YOU SO BAD YOU TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE?!” 

“I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE, AZIRAPHALE! HASTUR AND LIGUR PROMISED NOT TO HURT ANYONE ELSE SO LONG AS I COOPERATED! THIS IS WHAT I AM! A FUCKING PUNCHING BAG! THAT IS ALL I EVER WILL BE! GOD, YOU DON’T GET IT! I DON’T DESERVE YOU. I DON’T DESERVE YOUR LOVE!” 

“ _ **YES YOU BLOODY WELL DO!”**_

Crowley fell back, startled at the vehemence in Aziraphale’s tone. He blinked, then burst into tears. “I don’t though, I can’t...I...god, Aziraphale, I am so fucked up, I was so happy, and making love with you was so perfect, and then I went and fucked it all up, and...” his shame choked him, and he began sobbing. Aziraphale pulled him into his arms, rocking him back and forth. “Such a fuck up...”

“No, my love, what you are is traumatized. No one can go through what you have for the past three years and not have trauma.”

Crowley clung to him, still crying. “You’re right. I can’t...if I go back there, I’ll...I’ll end up dead, won’t I? Either one day Hastur or Ligur will go too far, or...I’ll have a repeat of the other night, only this time you won’t be there to save me. But the others, I can’t have them hurt. What am I going to do?”

Aziraphale kissed the side of his head. “We’ll figure a way to get everyone out, I promise. Are you okay to go to sleep?”

“Y...yeah. Just have a...request.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let go of me.”

Aziraphale pulled him closer. “Never, my love. Never.”


	7. Strut My Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a nightmare, and he and Aziraphale come to an Arrangement.

Chapter Seven: Strut My Stuff

Crowley came abruptly, painfully awake when the ice water landed on his naked body. Coughing and sputtering, he looked around, frantic. Aziraphale. Where was Aziraphale? “Aziraphale?!”

No answer. Crowley tried to turn around, and the realization that he was chained to a chair in a very familiar room hit him. Oh god, they had come and taken him while he was sleeping! “AZIRAPHALE!”

“Will you please shut up?” Hastur came into view, holding something in his hands. Something that looked to have a tartan pattern. He smiled, showing off teeth that would make a dentist weep. “Did you really think you could just walk away from us? We own you, Crawley. There’s no escape. Not for you, not for any of them. And since you tried to run, you are getting very badly punished. I suggest you brace yourself.”

Crowley whimpered as Ligur came out of the shadows, a barbed whip in his hands. “Where’s Aziraphale?!”

Hastur mock frowned. “Who? Oh, you mean that pansy that tried to stop us taking what was rightfully ours? We had to...remind him of his place in the scheme of things. He was a pretty one, wasn’t he, Liggy?”

Crowley’s blood went cold. “What did you do?!”

Hastur tossed the scrap of fabric at Crowley’s feet. It was a tartan patterned tie. At least it had been. Crowley couldn’t tell what the pattern was now, so soaked with blood as it was. “No no no no...”

Ligur smiled. “We had a good time with him, Crawley. Course, by the time we were done, he wasn’t so pretty.”

Crowley shook his head. “No. You’re...bluffing. I don’t believe you! I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!”

Hastur grinned. “Ligur, why don’t you show this maggot what’s in that closet over there?” He pointed to a stand alone closet over on the far wall, then turned to Crowley. “You asked for this, Crawley.”

Ligur went over to the closet and opened the door. A body toppled out, landing with a loud thud on the floor. At first, Crowley didn’t register what he was seeing. The body was a man’s, but it had been beaten so badly the features were barely recognizable. The eyes were swollen shut, and there was so much blood. “Th...that’s not him.” Crowley said, but his heart was starting to crack. “C...could be anyone.”

Ligur smirked. “You want proof? Hastur, hit the lights.”

The lights came up, and Crowley screamed. “NO! AZIRAPHALE, GOD NO, I’M SO SORRY, I KILLED YOU I KILLED YOU I KILLED YOU I...”

“CROWLEY! WAKE UP!”

Crowley, still screaming, shot upright. “NO!”

Aziraphale shook him, eyes wide and frantic. “Crowley! Wake up! You were dreaming!”

“Azira...oh god...” Crowley threw himself in the tailor’s arms, shaking and sobbing hysterically. “They killed you they killed you they killed you!”

Aziraphale clung to him. “I’m here, my love. I’m safe. You were dreaming.”

Crowley pressed himself as tight as he could against Aziraphale, as if to assure himself that he was really there, really breathing. “It felt...so fucking real. God, Aziraphale, it...I can’t lose you, I’ll die without you, I love you so f...fucking **much**...” 

Aziraphale stroked his spine, humming softly. “As do I love you.”

Crowley inhaled deeply, breathing in the sandalwood scent of his angel. “Is this...this isn’t still my dream, is it? I’m not going to wake up back there? P...please tell me this is real, I don’t know...”

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “It’s real, my love. That horrid nightmare was the dream. I’m real, I swear. I’m here. Always.”

Crowley shivered. “I’m scared to go to sleep. I don’t want to go back there, Aziraphale. Don’t make me go back there.” He plead, eyes wet with tears. 

“I won’t, my darling. I’ll stay awake with you, for as long as you need me.” Aziraphale whispered, placing another soft kiss to copper curls. Crowley sighed in contentment, then yelped in surprise as a black and white streak came running into the room and jumped on the bed, whining and licking at his face. Aziraphale laughed. “Seems someone else was worried about you. It’s okay, Oreo, your Daddy just had a bad dream.” Crowley hugged Oreo close, face buried in his fur. “They always know, don’t they?”

Crowley nodded. “He knows. He’s so smart.” Oreo waggled happily. Aziraphale rubbed his ears. “He loves you too, you know. We both do.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “I know.” 

Oreo made himself comfortable between his two daddies, watching as Other Daddy petted Daddy. Oreo had woken up with the feeling that Daddy was Scared, and so had come to offer Comfort. Other Daddy was also giving Comfort, so Oreo decided that he could give Licks. Daddy always laughed when Oreo gave Licks. 

(Oreo was also curious about the howling sounds Daddy had made last night. He had said Other Daddy’s Name a lot.)

Aziraphale stroked Oreo with his right hand and Crowley’s spine with his left. He wasn’t sure who was getting more satisfaction from it, his lover or the puppy.  He was pretty sure Crowley was purring. Oreo was half asleep, his tail thumping. A thought was beginning to form in the tailor’s mind. “Crowley?”

“Hmm?” Yep, that was definitely a purr. 

“I may...have an idea that would mean you wouldn’t have to go back there, but could possibly still model.”

Crowley yawned. “Whossat?”

Aziraphale took a breath. “Well, I’ve been working on this new line of clothing. Twenties style, very elegant. Thing is, I’m not exactly...the right body type for it. You, on the other hand, would be perfect.”

Crowley blinked and moved so he was staring straight into Aziraphale’s eyes. “You want me to model for you?” 

“Well, yes. I mean, I’d pay you, of course, and while I can’t promise you’d get into any glossy magazines, you would be in all my adverts, and I’d have your picture in my window.”

Crowley nodded. “Right, and uh...this?” He indicated their naked bodies. Aziraphale smiled and stroked his cheek.

“Darling, this is a lovely bonus. I’m asking you to model because I think you would look smashing in my clothes, not for some...payback. If you say no, I promise we will still be just as we are now.”

Crowley leaned forward and kissed him. “Right, when do I start?”

“How about tomorrow? Or today, as the case may be. We’ll go over to my shop and I’ll get everything set up. I just need to make a phone call.” 

A few hours later, after  having breakfast and placing a call to a photographer named Newt(a twitchy, nervous man who had an old fashioned camera- “Digital ones always break on me”-), Aziraphale and Crowley arrived at Fell’s Finery. Aziraphale steered Crowley into the backroom, where Newt was waiting. “Right, Mr. Fell, sir, where do you need me?” 

Aziraphale pointed to a spot. “There. Crowley, darling, we’re doing this outfit first.” He pulled a dark blue suit off a rack, placing it against Crowley’s body. “Yes, this will do for a start. Change behind there.” He pointed to a screen. Crowley took the suit and disappeared behind it, stripping off his clothes. Aziraphale did his level best to not drool too much at his naked silhouette. “Do you need any help?” He asked, hoping that his voice wasn’t cracking too badly. Crowley snorted in amusement. 

“No, Angel, I’m good. You were right about one thing, though.” 

Aziraphale gulped. “What’s...oh...god...” He went weak at the knees as Crowley sauntered out from behind the screen, the suit clinging to him like it had been poured on. He could see every curve, and oh god if Aziraphale hadn’t been a professional, he would have ripped that suit off and had Crowley right there on his floor. “Gnn...”

Crowley swayed forward, a seductive smile on his face, until he was inches away from the tailor. “So what do you think? I look good in blue?” 

Aziraphale made a sound that was halfway between a squeak and a moan. Crowley’s smile grew wider. “Lizard?”

“It’s Newt, sir.”

Crowley shrugged. “Whatever. You’d better take my picture before Angel forgets you’re here and bends me over the table.” He leaned in, his breath tickling Aziraphale’s ear. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, lover? To bend me over this table and make me scream your name?”

Yes. Aziraphale wanted that very much. His cock was quite interested in Crowley’s proposition. “T..take the pictures, please.” 

Crowley smirked and walked over to the spot Newt indicated. He smirked, then began posing, the routine coming back to him. Smile, look down, look up, make love to the camera, turn, pose, show off…

Newt’s shutter clicked and clicked. After a while, he stopped. “Okay, got some good ones. You’re really good at this, Mr. Crowley.”

“Just Crowley, kid, and...thanks. Can I see?”

“Er, well, I have to develop them, but um...I’ve got some pictures of my girlfriend I could show you.”

Crowley snorted. “Not really interested in your nudes, kid.”

Newt looked affronted. “They’re not nudes! Ana has taste!” He dug into his pocket, pulling out an old fashioned flip phone, and opened the gallery. He went over to Crowley. “See, that’s her.”

Crowley gaped. “Uh, where did you meet?” Newt sighed dreamily. 

“I ran into her at the park. Literally. She was so nice about it, and asked me for coffee. We just...hit it off right away. We’ve been together for two weeks now.”

Crowley’s grin grew wicked. “Have you now?” He retrieved his mobile from the table and dialed a number. “Ana!”

Anathema groaned. “What do you want, Crowley?”

Crowley was near to giggling in wicked glee. “Anathema Device, guess who I just met! This twitchy fella named Newt. Claims to be your  **boyfriend** , but I think he must be taking the piss. After all, you’d never get a boyfriend without telling me first, remember?” 

“Be nice to him, damn it. I was going to call and tell you.”

Crowley placed his hand over his heart. “Me? Not be nice? You wound me to the quick! I promise, I’ll be nice to your lizard.”

“NEWT!” Both Ana and Newt shouted at the same time. Crowley giggled and hung up. 

Aziraphale, who was trying not to laugh, spoke up. “Darling, behave. I have more outfits for you, and things will go much smoother if you do not antagonize my photographer.”

Crowley saluted. “Yes sir, Angel sir!” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

Crowley modeled several more outfits while Aziraphale watched and tried not to drool. This had been the best idea he had ever had, Aziraphale thought. It had also been the worst. By the time Newt was done, Aziraphale’s cock felt as rigid as an iron bar, and he was pretty sure that if Crowley gave him that sexy, half lidded smirk one more time he was going to come in his trousers. His clothes felt far too tight, and it was rather warm. “ Very good job as always, Newton, be sure to send me the bill, thank you and goodbye!” He babbled as he practically shoved Newt out the door. He slammed it closed, locked it, then ran to the back. Crowley was leaning against the table, and Aziraphale sprung into action. He grabbed the model by his lapels and yanked him into a searing kiss, shoving his tongue deep inside. Crowley whined in pleasure and kissed back. “Now, what was it you wanted from me, Crowley? To...bend you over this table and fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”

“Oh fuck yes please...” Crowley groaned, rutting hard against Aziraphale. The blond smirked, then spun him around and slammed him against the table. Crowley howled in ecstasy. “Oh yes Aziraphale fuck please god...”

Aziraphale leaned over him, sucking a hard kiss into his neck while at the same time grinding his hard cock into Crowley’s ass. “Do you have any idea...how fucking turned on I got watching you model my stuff? God, I knew you’d look fucking hot in my clothes, but I didn’t realize you’d look as fucking delectable as you did. I wanted to tear every bit of clothing off and just fuck you, over and over...” He growled, hands roving over Crowley’s trousers. He unbuckled his belt and slid his hand inside, grasping Crowley’s hard cock. “Oh god, tell me it turned you on too...”

Crowley whined. “Yes, fuck yes, seeing you watch me, knowing I was wearing something you made, I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my fucking life, I need you, need you to make me yours, need you to fuck me...”

Aziraphale yanked the  trousers down, running his hands reverently over Crowley’s ass. “So fucking perfect...” He undid his own trousers, sighing in relief as his cock sprung free. “Darling, I’m afraid I don’t have any lube, so we’re going to do this the old fashioned way.”

“What’s the...OH MY FUCKING GOD AZIRAPHALE...” Crowley screeched as he felt the tailor’s tongue dive inside him. “Oh god oh fuck oh god oh god oh god that’s so fucking good oh my god Azi...oh oh god oh oh oh...” Crowley panted and writhed in an agony of ecstasy. “Aziraphale...Jesus fucking Christ..”

Aziraphale kissed his spine. “Are you ready for me, my darling?”

Crowley whined high in his throat. “Yes  **please** please Aziraphale please….”

Aziraphale lined himself up, then braced himself against the table and slammed in. Crowley shrieked in rapture. Aziraphale began pounding into him. “God, look at you. So fucking gorgeous, so debauched, so needy. You feel so good, Crowley, so good underneath me, I love you so much...”

“Love you, love you my angel, feel so good inside me...I love you I love you...so fucking much...”

Neither lasted long. Crowley came first, Aziraphale’s name pouring from his mouth. Aziraphale followed. He collapsed on top of Crowley’s back, both of them panting. “I love you so much, Crowley, and I think...maybe tonight you could fuck me?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. That...yeah.”

Later that night, Aziraphale, much to his delight and surprise, was brought to sobbing, screaming orgasm five times by his immensely talented lover. Crowley had laid him on the bed, sucked him until he was sobbing and begging, then slid into him and done things with his hips that had the tailor seeing stars. “Oh...you’re definitely going to fuck me more often...”

Crowley giggled and pulled Aziraphale into his arms. “Your wish is my command.”

Aziraphale laughed and kissed him. “Darling, did you enjoy it?”

“The sex? Uh, yeah.”

Aziraphale lightly smacked him. “The modeling, you demon.”

Crowley smiled softly. “Yeah, I really did. It...made me remember why I used to...well, before. But I’m still under...they own me. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be free from them. And I...the nightmare, from this morning. What if that happens for real? They could find out about...you, about us, and use you to...force me to...come back. They...could hurt you. Because of me.” 

Aziraphale hugged him close. “I’m far tougher than you think, love. They would have a hard time, I promise.”

Crowley sniffled. “God, I keep fucking doing this. You make me feel so wonderful, and then my mind starts...fucking it up, because I still...I’m so fucked up, I should be in a padded fucking room. M’fucking...every good thing, I twist it and... fuck it up.”

“Oh, darling...” 

Crowley began crying. “God, I’m like a fucking teen girl, crying all the goddamn time...”

Aziraphale kissed him. “And how long have you held yourself back? How long did you put up a brave front? There’s only so much anyone can take before it becomes too much. You have gone through years of hell and trauma.” 

Crowley clung tight. “I...always told myself that crying about it wouldn’t do anything. That...it wouldn’t make the pain stop, that it would be less than useless. When...it first started, I cried when...Hastur and Ligur were...and they’d laugh at me, and it would get worse. After a while, I...stopped. But they liked seeing me cry in pain, so...I...they got...more creative, and I realized that crying, for them, meant...that they had power over me, so as you can guess, the more I tried not to, the more they...I wasn’t really crying, not...this kind, the kind that...leaves me feeling so fucking wrung out...”

“This kind of crying is good, my love. It’s...cathartic. You need to do more of it.”

“I’m so scared, Aziraphale.”

“Of what?”

“That...you’ll leave, that I’ll...become too much for you.” 

Aziraphale sighed. “Darling, look at me.” He pulled away so he could look into Crowley’s tear filled eyes. “Do you believe that I love you?” Crowley nodded. “Then believe me when I say this. I am not leaving. Not now. Not ever. You are a beautiful, wonderful person.”

“M’ a broken shell.”

“No. You are strong, and brave. I know you don’t see it, but I do. I don’t give up on people, and I sure as hell am not giving up on you. You call me Angel, so let me be your guardian angel. Believe that I love you enough to accept everything you are.”

“Oh, Angel...” Crowley fell into his embrace, sobbing in happiness. “L...love you so goddamn much...”

Aziraphale held him tight, whispering words of love into his hair. As he held him, a thought occurred to Aziraphale. 

Maybe it was time to give his cousin a call. 


	8. Bigger Than You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's cousin may be able to help...

Chapter Eight: Bigger Than You Think

Crowley bolted awake, the nightmare fresh in his mind. He had, once again, been trapped in Hell, only this time he had been forced to watch as Hastur and Ligur beat Aziraphale to a bloody pulp. The tailor’s mouth had been stuffed with an iron bar so he couldn’t scream, and he had been trussed up like a Christmas goose. “Aziraphale!”

He blindly reached for his lover, only to discover to his horror that the bed was empty and cold. Crowley hugged himself, a whine building in his throat as he rocked back and forth. Oh god, it wasn’t a nightmare, they had taken Aziraphale, and he was never going to see him again, never see him, and Crowley would be dragged back to Hell, kicking and screaming, and the pain, the hurt would start over again… “AZIRAPHALE!”

“Crowley, darling, I’m right here.” The blond came into the bedroom, his phone in one hand. He spoke into it. “Yes, I think that would be best. Thank you. Goodbye.” He climbed into bed, and Crowley attached himself to the tailor, whining high in his throat. “Sweetness, whatever is it?”

“Woke up. You weren’t here, an’...the bed was cold, an’ I thought...you w’re gone...d’nt be gone?”

Aziraphale clung to the frightened redhead. “Oh, Crowley...I had to make a phone call, and I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so peaceful. Did you have another nightmare?” Crowley whimpered, nodding. “I’m sorry, my love. Do you want to talk about it?” A swift shake of the head. “Very well then. How about some breakfast? I’ll make you an omelet?”

“ ‘Kay.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek and started to detach himself. Crowley whined and clung harder. “Not yet, though. Need you for a bit longer.”

Aziraphale ran his hands through Crowley’s hair. “Whatever you need, my love.”

It took almost half an hour for Crowley to calm down enough to be willing to let go of Aziraphale, but eventually they made their way to the kitchen where Aziraphale made omelets while Crowley and Oreo watched, both drooling, though for different reasons-Oreo because he wanted eggs too and Crowley simply because Aziraphale was so bloody gorgeous he couldn’t **not** drool over him. “So who were you calling this early?”

Aziraphale flipped the omelet and slid it onto the waiting plate. He placed it in front of Crowley, along with a cup of coffee. “My cousin, Uriel. She’s...coming by later. She might be able to help you with your situation. She has...information about your bosses that...well, I’ll let her tell you.” Aziraphale fixed his own omelet and tea.  He sipped, then took a breath. “Did I ever tell you about my family?” Crowley shook his head. “Hmm. Well, my parents are very well off, and they had certain...expectations for all of us. We were to go into business, in preparation for taking over the company should Mother and Father step down.”

“What company’s that?” Crowley asked around a mouthful of egg. Aziraphale frowned at him, and Crowley pretended not to notice. 

“Fell Arch Industries. No doubt you’ve heard of it,” Aziraphale said with a hint of bitterness. Crowley swallowed his bite and nodded, eyes wide. “Yes, well. My brothers and sister, good little automatons, followed Mother and Father’s rules right down to the letter. I on the other hand...” he sighed bitterly, staring into his tea. 

Crowley, feeling the mood had soured, tried to lighten it. “Wot, you got the boot for deciding to be a tailor?”

Aziraphale glared at him. “No. I ‘got the boot’, as you put it, for coming out. See, I’d known from an early age that I preferred boys, and Mother and Father are...extremely conservative. I kept trying to deny myself, even went on a few disastrous dates with girls, all of them daughters or nieces of friends of my parents, but eventually it just...became too much and I told them. They...did not react well.” Aziraphale still winced at the memory. His father had been on the verge of a heart attack, so furious had he been, and Aziraphale was certain that if his mother hadn’t been there, Aziraphale’s father would have beaten him. His mother had cried and screamed that he was a deviant, a pervert, and that he was no longer welcome in the house. “So I got thrown out at fifteen. None of my other relatives would take me in, because most of them believed as my parents did. But I had a cousin, Uriel. She had been thrown out of her house  for ‘hanging with the wrong crowd’. She was eighteen, and I went to her. We lived together until I left for Uni and she left for...well, to do the job she’s got now. I gifted her my first custom suit when I opened my shop.”

Crowley wrapped his hands around his mug. “Dad beat the shit out of me when I told ‘em. Not that he didn’t beat the shit out of me other times, but this time I thought for sure he was gonna kill me. Mum didn’t do anything, just crawled into Ole Jimmy. Dad left me bleeding on the parlor floor and went upstairs. He comes down with a bag of my clothes, tosses them out into the snow, and then picks me up and literally throws me out of the house. I come to, and I’m fucking freezing. I try to go back inside, and everything-even the windows-are locked. I musta banged on the door a dozen times ‘fore I realized I wasn’t gonna be let back in.” 

Aziraphale gasped. “What did you do?”

“Made my way to the bus stop. I had some money, so I took the bus as far as it would take me. Spent a few years on the streets, doing what I could to survive. I was thirteen, but because I was so skinny I could...go places others couldn’t. I hated it. I wanted...more, you know?” Aziraphale nodded. “So I started going to the library, reading anything I could find about how to go to Uni while homeless. I found some online courses to help me get through secondary school. The guys I hung with, they didn’t get why I was doing it. They were content with just...being a cool gang, you know? But I wanted more. So I passed secondary, and I know that if I want to go to Uni, I’m gonna have to make some money, you know? So I start doing odd jobs here and there, anything that will help grow my tuition. Then one day I’m in a cafe on my break when this bloke in a suit sits in the chair across from me and asks if I’ve ever done any modeling. All my alarms are going off, and I tell him no. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card, tells me to come to this address tomorrow, then leaves.”

Aziraphale leaned in, fascinated. “Did you go?”

“Yeah. I figured if the guy turned out to be a perv I could kick and bite my way out. But it turned out to be this hotel, and there’s all these other blokes around. Come to find out the guy is, I guess a recruiter for a model agency, and they’re looking for fresh faces. Everyone there is nervous as hell. So this redhead comes into the room we’re all waiting in, and lemmee tell you, even the gay guys are watching her. She has **presence.** Like, you could be in a room of a thousand people, and she would be instantly the focus of attention. I watched her, and I knew. I wanted that. I wanted to walk into a room and have every single eye fixed on me. Red walks over to me, gives me the once over, then gives me a smile that would have had any straight man worshiping at her feet. She tells me to follow her, and we go into a conference room, where this pale bloke in a black suit is sitting along with the other one I’d met earlier and another one. Red tells Pale Bloke that she thinks she’s found the next model for Horse People Agencies. Pale guy introduces himself as Mr. Azrael, and the others as Sable, White, and Carmine, then asks me if I’d be willing to have a photographer take a couple shots. So I say sure, the pics are taken, I’m thanked for my time, and I go off, thinking nothing of it. A week later, I get a call from Carmine, asking me to come to the agency. And...the rest is history. I climbed my way up to be their top model.’

Aziraphale smiled. “How wonderful.” 

Crowley took a breath. “It was. Until...it wasn’t. After my accident, I...became too much of a liability for them. The insurance guys crunched the numbers and...Azrael had to let me go. I still had enough of a rep in the world that I could get, well, not real cushy jobs, but legit ones. But...the pain just got worse, and I...Fell. Then three years ago, I..made the biggest fucking mistake of my life.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “A mistake that I hope Uriel can rectify.” Crowley’s doorbell rang. “Ah, that’s her. Do excuse me.” He  got up from the table. Crowley heard the door open, and a woman’s rich voice. 

“Aziraphale, darling, so wonderful to hear from you.” 

“You as well. Do you have everything?”

“But of course.” 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale escorted a lovely dark skinned woman wearing a tailored suit into the dining room. Oreo came over, tail wagging. The woman knelt and patted him, then straightened and turned to Crowley, hand extended and a smile on her face. “You must be Anthony.”

“Jus’ Crowley. You’re...Aziraphale’s cousin?” He asked, puzzled. Uriel laughed. 

“Honorary cousin. Aziraphale stayed with my family after his threw him out. We’re old childhood friends. Now, I understand you need some help.” She sat down, placing the briefcase that had been in her hands on the table and snapping it open. She took out some photos. “First, let me ask you. Do you recognize these people?” She slid the photos over. Crowley went stiff.

“Yeah, those are my bosses. Dagon’s hair is different, though.” 

Uriel nodded. “Yes, I thought it would be. Dana Angela Fish, aka Dagon, and Beatrice Ze Bub, aka Bee. Also known as the last remaining members of the Hellfire Gang. The rest are in jail or dead. We’ve been trying to catch these two for years now. They’re wanted for drug smuggling, human trafficking, murder, you name it. Their leader Lucas died in a shoot out last summer in Nice, and they’ve been on the run ever since.” 

Crowley gulped. “Um...what do you have to do with it?”

Uriel sighed. “I’ve been tracking them from the start, but every time I get close, they slip away. But maybe now I’ll have a chance to catch them.” 

“You said we. Who, exactly, is we?”

Uriel smiled. “INTERPOL.” 

Crowley gaped, his jaw working. “Y...you’re a cop?” 

“Agent, actually. And you are in a unique position. With your help, and evidence, I can finally catch those bastards.”

Crowley gulped. “Wh..what sort of help?” 

Uriel waved a hand. “Nothing bad, I promise. I’d have you fixed with a wire, and you’d just have to...find things out.” She blinked at the horror on Crowley’s face. “What?”

Crowley shook. “No no please don’t make me go back there Aziraphale don’t make me go back I can’t go back I can’t I can’t I...” he began rocking back and forth, keening. “hurt no hurt no hurt can’t go back can’t can’t can’t...” 

Aziraphale pulled the shaking redhead into an embrace, stroking his hair. “Uriel, there has to be another way. Crowley...I left out a few details. His lap top. It...the site should still be up.” Aziraphale pointed. Uriel opened the laptop and tapped a key to wake it up. 

“Oh. My...” she gasped, hand in front of her mouth. “Crowley, how long...”

“Th...three years. Ever...since I started. They...string the others out, keep them drugged up, but they….I made a deal with Hastur...I take the...punishments...and...no one else. Con...contract.” He pressed close to Aziraphale. “I’m...see, people...think it’s...make up, or...acting. I..wish...they knew...”

Uriel finished looking at the pictures. “Crowley,  I think there may be a way for us to catch these assholes without putting you in any sort of danger. I’ll need to take your laptop, though.” Crowley nodded. Uriel closed it and slipped it into her briefcase, along with the photos. “You mentioned a name. Hastur?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. His last name is Vista. He’s got a partner, Ligur Cameo. They’re the...ones that...um...do most of the physical work. Dagon watches, and Bee just...ignores it.” 

Uriel wrote the names down. “Okay. I’m going to head back to my office, see if I can’t figure something out. In the mean time, you keep safe.” She shook hands with them both and departed. Crowley slumped into Aziraphale’s arms. 

“Do you think she’ll be able to do something?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I certainly hope so.”

Crowley nuzzled him. “They’re...gonna notice, sooner or later. I don’t want to go back, but...I, god, I’m used to...What if I just...went back for, a week? I could...”

“No you could not.” Aziraphale’s voice was harsh, and Crowley flinched. “We are not having this discussion again. I am not letting you go back there. If I have to tie you to the bloody bed to keep you from going there, I will.”

“But...but I...” 

“But what, Crowley? But what?” 

“I DESERVE THEM!” Crowley wailed. “It’s my fault, I deserve them, I’m dirty, I’m ugly, I’m nothing, I...punish me, Aziraphale. Punish me, hit me, tell me I’m worthless, tell me I’m nothing, use me, hurt me, beat me, break me, that’s all I’m good for, I’m a worthless nothing, you could hurt me, and you’d be in your rights to, because that’s what I am, a punching bag, a nothing, a...STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! STOP FUCKING PRETENDING YOU CARE, JUST STOP! NO ONE CARES ABOUT ME! STOP PRETENDING!” Crowley screeched and attacked the tailor, pounding at him with his fists. “STOP PRETENDING, I’M NOTHING, I’M LESS THAN NOTHING, YOU DON’T FUCKING CARE, NO ONE DOES NO ONE...” He went stiff, then with a howl that cracked Aziraphale’s heart in half jumped off him and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale could hear his screams and cries of pain. Oreo looked at the door and howled. 

Aziraphale picked up the puppy and went to the bedroom. “Crowley?” 

“G’way.” 

Aziraphale set Oreo down on the bed before climbing on himself. The puppy was licking at Crowley’s face, whining. “Sweetheart...”

Crowley buried himself further under the blankets. “I said GO ‘WAY!” Aziraphale placed a hand on the lump under the covers. “Fuck off.”

“No.” Aziraphale said in a firm tone. “I’m not going anywhere, and I am certainly not going to **punish** you.” 

“S’what I deserve.” Came the muffled, tear filled voice. “It’s all ‘m good for.”

Aziraphale stroked the blanket. “Darling, please come out from there and look at me.” Crowley  mumbled something. “Well then, if Mohammad won’t come to the mountain...” He lifted the blanket and slid under. Crowley blinked at him. “There you are, my love.” 

“You stubborn bastard. Why...haven’t you left yet?” 

Aziraphale kissed him between the eyes. “Because I am, as you pointed out just now, a stubborn bastard. I also happen to be madly in love with you, and I am not giving up on you. Shall I tell you what I think you deserve?” 

“’Kay.”

Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You deserve a garden. One surrounded by trees, with flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes. You deserve the sun on your back, and the wind in your hair. You deserve a home with ivy covered brick, a fireplace, and floors that squeak a bit when you walk on them. You deserve the stars, and a blanket underneath. You deserve jams, and breads, and fruit, and all sorts of other good foods. You deserve a smile, laughter, and warmth. You deserve a hand in your own, a smile just for you, and love. You deserve life, and happiness.”

Crowley was openly sobbing. “But I...can’t, Aziraphale. I’m...why do I deserve that?” 

“Because you are you, my love. You are the most brilliant and wonderful man I have ever known.” 

Crowley came into his arms, still crying. “I wish...keep telling me it, Angel. Maybe...maybe I’ll believe it then.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as it takes, my love.”

**Meanwhile**

Uriel grinned widely as she compiled the last bit of evidence needed. Now all she had to do was present the info to her superiors, and she would finally be able to nail Fish and Ze Bub’s asses to the wall. 

All in all, it was shaping to be a very nice day. 


	9. By The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure is starting to get to Crowley, so Aziraphale decides a change of scenery is needed.

Chapter Nine: By The Sea

Aziraphale was beginning to get seriously worried about Crowley. It had been almost two weeks since Uriel’s visit, and subsequent calls and emails to her, and her answers that the investigation was ‘nearly done’, only served to enhance the tailor’s worry. Crowley was barely able to sleep most nights, waking up with frequent, extremely vivid nightmares, and once awake would cling to Aziraphale, pointedly refusing to let go. His flare ups got worse, and Aziraphale was forced to monitor his medication. Twice he had caught Crowley trying to sneak out of the flat and return to Hell, muttering about how nothing was going to change, Uriel wouldn’t find anything, and he(Crowley) deserved this, deserved all of it.

Dark circles appeared under Crowley’s eyes, which were glazed over with fatigue most days. He would sit and stare into space for hours at a time, scratching at himself so hard that he drew blood. He was prone to fits of white hot rage, and would scream and throw things, yelling for Aziraphale to punish him, beat him. When Aziraphale would refuse, Crowley would throw himself at the tailor, screaming and yelling incoherently as he pounded and clawed at him. When the moods passed, Crowley would retreat to the bedroom and hide under the blankets.

It was after just such a spell that Aziraphale came up with a desperate plan. Maybe a change of scenery would help. Crowley had told him once that the flat had been purchased with the money he had earned ‘modeling’ for Hell, but that he couldn’t move because Bee and Dagon had a stranglehold on any money.

So Aziraphale made a decision, then he made a phone call. After making sure everything was arranged, he went into the bedroom and climbed in next to Crowley. Oreo was curled up on his side, his head resting on the model’s back. “Crowley?”

“Yeah?” The voice was muffled by the pillow it was under. Crowley slid out and turned to Aziraphale. “I hurt you.”

Aziraphale looked at his arm, where Crowley had scratched him. “It’s nothing, my dearest. I cleaned it up.” Crowley sniffled, loudly, and scooted so he could rest his head on Aziraphale’s lap.

“I keep hurting you. I can’t seem to...it’s like there’s this...thing inside me, keeps saying ‘you have to be hurt, you have to be hurt...’ an’...when it...I hurt you because….I think to myself, ‘Well, sooner or later’, he’ll...do what the voice wants...he’ll hurt me, an’...an’ I’ll be...it’ll be...” Crowley sobbed. “Nothing’s going to change, but even if it does, I’m...god..I AM SUCH A FUCKING USELESS MESS!”

Aziraphale clung to him as he shook. “Crowley, I was thinking. Perhaps...a change of scenery might do you some good. At the very least, you could be someplace besides this flat and I wouldn’t have to worry about...”

“Me sneaking out?” Aziraphale winced and nodded. “Where...where would you like to go?”

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Have you ever been to the sea side?”

Hours later, after packing their clothes and Oreo, rushing to catch the train, missing the first train, barely making it on to the second, and Crowley nearly going into a panic attack at the porter’s insistence that Oreo ride in the baggage cart(Aziraphale slipped him a fifty pound note and the porter agreed to ignore the dog), they arrived at a small sea side town. Crowley hoisted his bag in one hand and held Oreo’s leash in the other. The puppy was wild with curiosity, head high and nose twitching as he took in all the new smells. “So where we staying? This place doesn’t seem like it would have a hotel.”

Aziraphale smiled a secret smile. “Oh, we’re not staying in a hotel. I’ve got something better, if you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Crowley grinned. “Nah, give Oreo a chance to stretch his legs.” He clicked his tongue, and Oreo came to heel. Aziraphale set off down the road, Crowley right beside him.

Their walk took them through the village, a lovely and quaint little town that only seems to exist in certain parts of England. There was a pub, a few retail shops, a bakery/cafe, a sweets shop, and a large town square complete with fountain. People milled about the streets, going in and out of the shops, chattering to each other. Children ran about, and a few spotted Oreo and came dashing over, asking Crowley if they could pet him. Crowley of course said yes, and Oreo happily submitted to being petted and cooed over.

“Nearly there,” Aziraphale sang as he led Crowley up a sand-covered path. Crowley could smell the ocean. They turned a corner, and Aziraphale gestured with a flourish. “Here we are!”

The cottage was right on the edge where the grass became the sand. It was rather large, at least in Crowley’s estimate, and it gleamed brightly. Aziraphale walked up to the bright red door and set his bags down on the steps before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. He slotted it into the lock, turned it, then pushed the door open. “After you.”

Crowley stepped into the cool interior, looking around. The room he was in was bigger than his flat, and it held a gigantic couch, a glass covered coffee table, and several large and very comfy looking chairs. The floor was tile made to look like stone, and a massive stone fireplace took up nearly an entire wall. A wooden stair case was to the right of him. “Uhh...”

Aziraphale set his bags by the door. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour. This is the parlor. Through here is the kitchen.” The kitchen was bright and new, with marble counters and shiny metal appliances. “And sitting room”(filled with more chairs), “Library,”(filled floor to ceiling with books, it also had a fireplace), “and of course upstairs is the bedroom.”

Crowley had never been in a place like this before. “Uh, Angel, how did you find this place?”

Aziraphale sighed and sank onto the couch. Crowley plopped himself into his lap. Aziraphale smiled up at him. “Hello, you.”

“Hi. So, this place?”

Aziraphale grinned. “It’s mine.”

Crowley gaped. “Yours?! How? Did you buy it?”

Aziraphale’s grin grew wicked. “Oh yes, and there’s quite a story behind it. See, this used to belong to my grandfather, who was one of the only people in my family to not disown me when I came out, but he lived too far away at the time, and had health problems, so I couldn’t stay with him when I got thrown out. But Grandfather and I kept in touch.”

“What’s that got to do with…?”

Aziraphale smirked. “I’m coming to that, dearest. See, when we were children, we used to come here every summer for a holiday. I was always the one that looked forward to it the most. I loved the sea, loved digging in the sand and splashing in the surf. But more than that, I loved Grandfather’s library. He had more books than I had ever seen, and he’s the one that sparked my love of reading. We would spend hours together, curled up in the chairs with the fireplace going. When I was very little, I’d sit in his lap while he read Winnie The Pooh to me. It’s still my favorite book, because it reminds me of him. My brothers and sister, on the other hand...they despised every minute. They kept complaining, and finally our parents gave in. When I was eight, we went to a very fancy resort. I hated it, and pitched such a fit that we were asked to leave. I struck a bargain with my parents. They and my siblings could go to whatever rich, fancy, ‘scheduled to the last minute’ vacation they wanted, but I wanted to come here. Grandfather was more than happy to have me, and so I spent every summer until...I got kicked out coming here. So. Fast forward about seven years. I’ve got my shop, am doing really well, when I get a call from Grandfather asking me to come to the cottage. I go, and he’s there along with my father and another man I recognized as Grandfather’s lawyer.”

Crowley winced. “Ooof.”

“Ooof indeed. Father looked outraged, like my being there was a personal affront to him. He asks Grandfather what’s going on, and Grandfather says that Mr. Dorian, the lawyer, has made some revisions to Grandfather’s Will at his behest.” Aziraphale smiled the bastard smile. “Turns out that while Grandfather had left some money to my parents, he left this place and all its contents to me. It also turned out that this threw a serious wrench in Father’s plans to have it bulldozed and a five star hotel put on the site. But it gets better. Father offered to buy the land this house is on, and well, it turns out that I had been given that as well, and it extended right down to the ocean.”

Crowley was giggling. “Your dad musta been pissed.”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “He was a bit, yes. Screamed that I’d never be able to keep up with the payments, that sooner or later I’d come crawling to him begging him to buy it.”

Crowley laughed. “Let me guess, the place was paid off already?”

“Oh, years ago. Grandfather was very good at paying on time. He paid on the same day every month. The sixth, because that had been the day he married Grandmother.”

“What was she like?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know. She died when I was three. Leukemia. Grandfather doted on her, that much I know from stories he would tell. She was a dancer. Gabriel was the only one of us that really knew her. You know, I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen my brother cry, was at her funeral. I have...vague memories of a woman with hair like mine, and she always smelled like roses. I think her perfume was rosewater.” He kissed Crowley’s cheek, smiling when the redhead blushed. “Would you like to go down to the sea, love?”

“Yeah.” Crowley slid off his lap. ‘Oreo, come on, we’re going to the beach!” Oreo came bounding over, tail wagging.

The sand was warm, but not hot under their bare feet, and the breeze was welcoming. Oreo whirled about, nose going a mile a minute as he smelled all the new smells. He ran to the water, sniffing at it. The tide came in, wetting his paws, and he jumped back, startled at the new sensation. He growled, then began barking loudly at the ocean. The water came up again, and Oreo yipped and ran over to Crowley. “Aww, baby boy, it’s okay. It’s just water. Want Daddy to go in with you?”

Crowley shed his shirt and trousers and waded into the ocean. “A bit cold.” He stopped when he was waist deep. “Come on, Oreo, come to Daddy! Come on!” Looking a bit unsure, Oreo waded into the water and swam over, his tail wagging. Crowley caught him as he came close. “That’s a good boy, yes you are, such a good Oreo! Daddy’s got you, baby boy. You’re okay. Angel, get in here!”

Aziraphale shed his clothes and swam over. “Rather...cool. Feels nice, though.” He put his arms around Crowley. “There he is.”

“There who is?”

Aziraphale kissed him. “The man I love. That smile. I’ve missed that.” He ran his hands through Crowley’s hair. “Crowley, I know how scared and worried you are. I’m just as worried. Uriel can only go as quickly as her superiors let her. I know she told us she has all the evidence, but neither of us know just how long it will take to process it. I have faith in her, but you...Crowley, you were scaring me. This past week, it’s been...terrifying, seeing you like that.”

Crowley gulped. “I know. I...I...you could have left, any time. You could have decided that I was too much, that my...mood swings were too violent. I hurt you, I didn’t mean to at the time, but I did. I’ve called you so many horrible things. And you stayed. You held me in the aftermath of my rages, cleaned up where I scratched myself, and never once asked for an apology. How can you still love me, after all I did?”

Aziraphale cupped his face. “Because when you love someone, you love all of them. Their plaudits and their faults, the good and the bad. Would you ever, seriously, to the point of...serious injury, hurt me, even in the midst of your rages?”

“No, of course not!”

“Do you remember last Tuesday, when you were in the grips of one? Do you remember what you did?”

Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale kissed him between the eyes. “You took your pain and anger out on some empty plant pots. You went into the plant room, and you threw every pot without a plant in it against the wall. Then you came out, covered in dirt, and went into the shower.”

Crowley remembered. He had come out of the trance he seemed to go into when his rages hit in the shower, his clothes soaking wet and blood under his knuckles. “I...thought I had done something to you.” Crowley had run out of the bathroom, screaming for Aziraphale, and nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of the tailor sitting on the couch.

Crowley shivered. “S cold. Can we go back inside?” Aziraphale nodded.

They sloshed up the path back to the cottage. Aziraphale got the fireplace going, and after changing into dry clothes, and drying off Oreo, the three of them snuggled together on the obscenely large and very comfy sofa. “Aziraphale? I think...maybe, when this is all done, I should...find someone. Someone to help me through my PTSD.”

Aziraphale kissed him. “I think that is an excellent idea, love. Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you every step.”

Crowley felt a weight lift off his chest. He sighed happily, pressing closer to his love. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

There was a long, pleasant pause in which Crowley simply reveled in being in Aziraphale’s embrace. “Aziraphale? You said something earlier about your dad putting a resort here?”

Aziraphale snorted. “Yes, that’s how he made his money. He would go to towns like this, buy up a bunch of land, and have these horrible resorts put up. Never mind that the resorts are ugly as sin to look at and contribute nothing to the local economy.” Crowley blinked in confusion. “Oh, see, Father always hired outside help to run the places. Said that the locals wouldn’t be able to handle it. So rather than boosting economies for small towns by letting locals work at his resorts, he instead forces them to rely on any tourists that might deign to visit their stores and restaurants. But, you see, when you’re already at an inclusive resort that boasts a five star restaurant on site, why would you want to go to some village pub?”

“God, what a wanker.”

“That’s a mild way of putting it, yes. But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that he won’t be able to touch this place or this village.” Aziraphale smirked. “It’s a small victory, but it’s still a victory.”

Crowley giggled. “Bastard angel. Love you.” Aziraphale stroked his face, then kissed him. The kiss quickly became heated. Crowley moaned into his mouth. “Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“You know what I’ve always...fantasized about?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Mmm?”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s neck. “Always...dreamed about...what it would be like to fuck in front of a fireplace...on a rug...d’you have a rug?”

Aziraphale moaned very loudly when Crowley did something with his tongue. “Oh god...um..no, but I do have blankets. And pillows. We could...” Crowley sat up on his elbows and nodded frantically.

Aziraphale ran to the linen closet and grabbed blankets and pillows. He spread them out in front of the fire-close enough to feel the heat, but not so close they ran the risk of getting burnt-then motioned for Crowley. The redhead came off the sofa and over to him. “Now, in this..scenario, which one of us is doing the fucking?” Aziraphale asked sweetly, his hand tracing Crowley’s eager face. Crowley gulped.

“Y...you are, Angel. But it...there’s more to it.”

Aziraphale’s smile remained serene. “Oh, is there? Tell me.” He purred, and Crowley gulped in visible desire.

“You umm...make me kneel in front of you.” He whispered, and Aziraphale grinned.

“Well then, kneel, my love.” Crowley dropped to his knees. “What else, my dear Crowley?”

Crowley gulped. “I...you make me take out your cock. But I’m not allowed to use my hands. You...make me put them behind my back.” Aziraphale’s eyes went dark, and he unhooked his belt.

“Do it, Crowley.” His voice was firm, and Crowley whined. He put his hands behind his back, then leaned forward and took Aziraphale’s zipper in his teeth. He tugged it down, letting Aziraphale’s already half hard cock spring free. “What happens next?”

Crowley kissed the tip. “I...lick you, suck you down, and...you praise me. Call me your good boy.” Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley licked his shaft, moaning in pleasure. “Call me a good boy, Aziraphale, tell me I’m your good boy, “ he pleaded.

Aziraphale ran his hands through the fire curls. “You are such a good boy, Crowley. Your mouth was made for my cock, you take me so wonderfully, my good, good boy, my beauty, so wanton and debauched, oh, my love, your mouth is divine, my good little pet, my dear boy, I love you, my good, **good** boy...” Aziraphale cried out as he came. Crowley swallowed, then looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes shining in joy. “Such a good, sweet boy. What happens next, my darling?”

Crowley pressed himself against Aziraphale. “You lay me on the rug, or blankets, in this case, and you undress me. I’m...you don’t let me touch you. Then you...undress. Slow. And...I have to keep my hands at my sides.” 

Aziraphale lowered him to the blankets. “Let me take care of this bit, my sweet boy. I promise, once we’re both gloriously naked you can tell me the rest.” Crowley whined, and Aziraphale undressed him, kissing every bit of skin. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of addition to this rather lovely fantasy.” Crowley shook his head. “Such a darling.” He pressed a loving kiss to the tip of Crowley’s cock. “Now, my turn.” Crowley watched as he shed his shirt. “Now, my lovely one, what next?” 

“I...we touch. Stroke, caress, everywhere...” Crowley ran his hands down Aziraphale’s back. “And we kiss.” 

Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley. “Sounds perfect.” They kissed, stroked, and caressed each other. “Is there more?”

Crowley nodded. “When you fuck me, you praise me. Tell me...how good I am, and how...well I take your cock. I..will you? Praise me while you fuck me?” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, my love, of course.” Crowley whined again. 

“There’s...one more thing. You...I want it hard, Aziraphale. I want you pounding into me so hard I see stars. I want to lose my breath every time you slam into me. I want you to bend me backwards, I want you to fill me over and over, make me scream. I want you to fuck me bowlegged.” Crowley said in a breathless rush. Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley’s entire body heated up. 

“Oh, my sweet, darling, perfect boy...I thought you would never ask.” Aziraphale purred. “Though before I start, lube?” 

Crowley pointed to his trousers. Aziraphale dug in the pockets and pulled out a small bottle. He looked at Crowley, grinning. The redhead huffed. “Wanted to be prepared.”

Aziraphale smirked and popped off the cap, lubing up his throbbing cock. “Be a dear and raise up so I can get you ready.” Crowley arched upwards, and Aziraphale placed his legs on his shoulders, then slicked up three fingers and plunged inside. Crowley howled. Aziraphale worked him open. “So good for me, aren’t you? Ready and open...”

“Yes please Aziraphale please fuck me...”

Aziraphale lined up and slammed in. Crowley screamed in happiness. “Oh, you are such a good boy for me, so open, so tight, so eager, look at you...I’m going to wreck you, ruin you, break and remake you anew, I love you so much, Anthony, my good boy, my lovely Anthony, my darling...”

Crowley whined in rapture as his angel praised him, Aziraphale’s cock buried in him, moving in him, he needed the praise, craved it, relished in it, after so many years of derision and scorn. Aziraphale’s words were a balm to his soul. God, he loved this man so fucking much, he would do anything for him, anything...he was falling to pieces, but he had never felt so whole. Aziraphale owned him, heart, blood, mind, body and soul, he was forever his. He was vaguely aware that he was making some sort of noise. 

His orgasms left him panting and shaking, his vision whited out. When he came to, Aziraphale was smiling down at him. “How do you feel, my love?”

“Remade. I love you so much, Aziraphale.”

“I love you too, my sweet, good boy.” Crowley purred happily and nuzzled against him. “Hmm..have to remember that you have a praise kink.”

Crowley sighed. “Spent so long being told how horrible I was, being treated like nothing. You treat me like I’m something. The praise thing kinda...grew out of that.”

Aziraphale grinned. “I’m flattered. Now, why don’t we go upstairs to the very large bed and you tell me what other wicked fantasies you have, and I will do my best to make them come true.”

Crowley sucked in a breath. “Oh...yes, please.” He blushed. “Some are...they might shock you. Nothing...really...twisted, but...”

Aziraphale stroked his cock. Crowley whined. “Darling, why don’t you let me decide for myself?”

“Okay.”

The next morning, Crowley limped out of bed and into the bathroom. Aziraphale had filled a number of Crowley’s deepest fantasies the night before(fantasies that involved the tailor  in several different positions , and that Crowley had had since that first meeting all those months ago), much to both of their satisfactions. Aziraphale was still sleeping, so Crowley decided to take a shower. He turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, then climbed under the spray. 

“You’re very rude, you know.” Aziraphale stepped into the shower. “I was on the verge of waking up.” He kissed Crowley softly. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. You?”

Aziraphale grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some onto his palm, motioning for Crowley to bend down. “Wonderfully, especially after  fucking and being thoroughly fucked by my gorgeous lover.”  He said, scrubbing Crowley’s scalp. Crowley purred. “I love the sounds you make.” 

Crowley smiled softly at him. “Thank you.” He rinsed off, then helped Aziraphale wash his hair. “How long are we staying here?”

“As long as you want, my dear. As long as you want.” 


	10. Salt Water and Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more time at the beach.

Chapter Ten: Salt Water And Sand

Crowley awoke to strange surroundings. He was in a very large and very comfortable bed. There was a window in front of him, and he could see the ocean through the window, shining and shimmering. He blinked. When had his flat moved to the ocean? He started to climb out of bed to find out what was going on when he felt something solid and warm around his waist.

It was an arm. No, it was Aziraphale’s arm. The tailor was pressed against Crowley, eyes shut. Crowley smiled at him, and the memory returned. They were at Aziraphale’s house. The one by the ocean. Crowley relaxed, wrapping himself back around his angel. His lovely, hedonistic, oh so sexually imaginative angel.

Crowley had been harboring many and varied fantasies about Aziraphale ever since meeting him, and the night before he had seen many of those fantasies come true. But better than that had been the praise Aziraphale heaped upon him. Crowley had never realized until now that he had a serious praise kink.

He wanted to do something nice for Aziraphale, something that would earn more praise. He slid out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers, then tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, Oreo following. When he went into the kitchen and over to the fridge, he encountered his first obstacle. It was bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboards. They had eaten dinner on the train. Sighing, Crowley went back upstairs. “Aziraphale?”

“Hmm? Crowley, what is it?” Aziraphale blinked at him with sleepy, concerned eyes. Crowley pouted and slid into the bed, depositing himself as best he could in Aziraphale’s lap while the tailor was lying down. Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair. “What is it, my love?”

“No food.”

Aziraphale ‘hmmed.’ “Yes, I was planning on going into town this morning and stocking up. But what’s got you in such a pout?”

Crowley rubbed against him. “Was gonna make you breakfast in bed.” He looked up at Aziraphale. “Wanted to hear more praise, figured that would be a way.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, you sweet, darling boy. You don’t have to do things for me to earn my praise, you know that. You’re my love, my good, good boy.” He didn’t miss the way Crowley’s eyes lit up or the happy grin on his face. “Darling, why don’t I get dressed, and we can go have breakfast in the village?”

“Okay. Can I pick out your outfit?” Crowley asked, ducking his head shyly. Aziraphale blinked. “I know you just said I don’t have to do things for you, but I want to.” He mumbled.

Aziraphale placed his fingers on Crowley’s chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him, soft and slow. “Of course you may, my love. I trust your choice implicitly.” Crowley purred in happiness and went over to the closet where Aziraphale had hung his clothes. He rifled slowly through the choices, then grinned and pulled out a light blue shirt and a pair of tan trousers. He held them up for inspection. Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley wiggled in joy. “Would you like to dress me, my sweet boy?”

“Yes, please.” Crowley said in an eager rush. Aziraphale slid out of bed, and Crowley gulped. “Boxers, angel?” Aziraphale pointed to a drawer. Crowley opened it and got out a pair of blue silk boxers. He walked over to Aziraphale, head bowed. “Umm...”

“Just hold them open so I can step in, my darling.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley obeyed. Aziraphale stepped into his boxers, and Crowley slid them up his legs, stroking the flesh tenderly. “Trousers next, I think,” Aziraphale said, trying not to sound too breathless. Crowley’s fingers, so soft and gentle on him, were quite the aphrodisiac. Crowley helped him into his trousers, buttoning him up. “Sh...shirt.” Aziraphale croaked. Good god, usually it was undressing that made one horny, not the opposite.

Crowley helped him into his shirt and carefully buttoned all the buttons before smoothing it out. “What would you like me to wear, Angel?”

Aziraphale knew. He went over to the closet and pulled out a crimson shirt and a pair of black trousers. The material was of the softest silk for the shirt and the pants were almost sinfully tight. “This. And no boxers.”

Crowley gulped, a sheen of desire and lust in his eyes. “Y...yes, Angel.” He dressed, then turned in a circle. “Good, Angel?”

Aziraphale came over and kissed him. “Perfect, my darling.”

Crowley melted under the praise. “Thank you.” They kissed for a bit longer, then Crowley got Oreo leashed up and the three of them headed outside. Crowley gasped. “Oh, Angel, I didn’t get to see it fully last night. It’s...so beautiful.”

The ocean was a clear blue, matching the sky above it. The sand was pristine white, and as far as Crowley could see, the beach was empty. He inhaled the saltwater scent, eyes shut and a smile on his face.

“Would you like to spend the day at the beach, darling?” Aziraphale asked him, taking Crowley’s hand in his. Crowley nodded. “Well then, we’ve got some shopping to do. But breakfast first. Come along.”

The bakery/cafe in town served modest but very good breakfasts. Crowley had a cheese and mushroom omelet with a side of potatoes, Aziraphale had a full English breakfast, and Oreo got raw minced beef, an egg, and fussed over by the waitress. Crowley had coffee, Aziraphale tea, and Oreo milk. After a very good meal, Aziraphale steered them to a clothing store that specialized in beach wear. The owner refused to allow Oreo to come in, so Crowley waited outside on a bench while Aziraphale shopped. Oreo hopped up next to his Daddy and placed his head in Crowley’s lap. Crowley stroked him.

“I really love him, Oreo. He makes me so happy, especially when he praises me. It’s like...this balm over my soul. This place, it’s wonderful. So far away from everything.” He tilted his head back to catch some sun.

A loud bang made him sit bolt upright, eyes wide in horror. He looked around, but couldn’t see where it was coming from. It sounded again, and he clenched his fists, his breathing becoming harsh as a memory rose to the surface…

_Crowley wanted to put his hands over his ears. He wanted to scream for Hastur to stop, that the noise was too much, too loud, but he was bound, trussed hand and foot, and he couldn’t. The noise grew louder, louder, louder. It was a banging sound, like a thousand giant pot lids being banged together, like elephants stomping on a concrete floor, it bled into his ears, and he was sure they were bleeding, he was going to go deaf, he felt like he was about to throw up, his entire body throbbed to the beat of that terrible sound, and he screamed and screamed, but even his screams couldn’t drown out the terrible noise, but still he screamed, cried, begged for them to stop, to end this torment, please end it please end…_

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s worried voice shocked Crowley back to the present. He was on the ground in a fetal position. Oreo was above him, whining. A small crowd had gathered, and they were muttering among themselves. “Darling, what happened? I heard you screaming.”

Crowley uncurled himself, and not caring that he was surrounded by witnesses, burst into a wailing sob and threw himself into Aziraphale’s arms, clinging to him. “H...heard a n...noise. Banging. M...made me...remember...” He shook and buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. The tailor felt tears dampening his shirt.

“Oh, sweetheart. Let’s get back to the house, okay? Think you can stand?” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale helped him up before picking up the bag from the store.

“He got some kind of mental problem?” One of the townsfolk asked. Aziraphale glared at him.

“That is not your business, my good man. If you will excuse us. Oreo, come along.”

When they arrived back at the beach house, Crowley pulled Aziraphale down on the sofa. “Do you want to tell me, darling?”

Crowley took a deep breath. “Hastur...didn’t always use physical means to hurt me. He would tie me up and put me in this room with speakers. The noise would...at first it would be almost tolerable, but then it would get louder and louder until I felt like it was seeping into my bones. It was always a banging sound, like..a pulse, but it set my teeth on edge, and the louder it got, the more it hurt, until I would be screaming for it to stop. Sometimes the noise would get higher in pitch, and that was worse, because I was sure that my ear drums would rupture and I’d go deaf. But...I guess they figured if I was deaf, I couldn’t hear myself scream, and they...liked that.” He sniffled. ‘Sorry I ruined our trip into town. Now everyone’s going to think I’m a nutter.”

“Nonsense. And if anyone does say something of that nature, I shall be very cross.” Aziraphale said sternly. Crowley smiled. “Now, do you still want to have that beach day?”

“Yeah.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Well then, why don’t I show you the bathing suit I picked out for you?” He reached into the bag and pulled out a black bathing suit with a red trim. “I do hope it fits.”

“Looks perfect. What about you?”

Aziraphale pulled a dark blue suit out. “I also have sun cream, a beach blanket, towels, and the bag can double as a picnic hamper.”

Crowley gulped. “We um...didn’t get any food, Angel.” Aziraphale smirked and pulled a small box out of the canvas bag.

“The shop had a selection of finger foods, crackers, cheeses, things like that. I also got us some bottles of soda.” Aziraphale said, grinning. “So, shall we head down to the beach, my loves?”

‘We should change first.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale laughed in agreement.

After changing into their bathing suits, they packed the bag and headed down to the beach, Oreo frisking along next to them. They set the blanket down on the sand, and Aziraphale buried the edges. “So the wind doesn’t catch it and send our picnic flying.” They placed the towels on the blanket so they wouldn’t get sandy, then Aziraphale spread a generous amount of sun cream on his hands and motioned for Crowley to sit.

“You must burn something awful, with that red hair of yours,” The tailor cooed as he spread the cream on Crowley’s shoulders, working it into the skin. Crowley moaned. Aziraphale went down, rubbing the cream into his back. ‘Don’t worry, love, I won’t let you burn.”

“Ngg...Angel...” Crowley groaned. His angel’s hands were heaven. “Feels so good...”

“I know, my sweet boy. I’m almost done.” Crowley whined, and Aziraphale chuckled, then leaned over and nipped at his earlobe. “I’ll do your front next, love. Then you can do me. How’s that sound?”

Crowley nodded eagerly. Aziraphale sucked on his earlobe, and Crowley gave vent to a whine that made Oreo’s ears perk up. “Wonderful. Do give me a moment.” Aziraphale came round to Crowley’s front, squeezing more cream into his hands. “Close your eyes, love.” Crowley shut his eyes, and Aziraphale coated his face. “You can open them now.” Crowley did, and Aziraphale smiled into the honey gold eyes. “So captivating.”

Aziraphale took his time on Crowley’s front, lingering on his nipples, then stroking his chest. Crowley shifted, trying to keep his massive erection under control. “You know something, Crowley?”

Crowley shook his head, too horny to form words. Aziraphale smiled a devil smile and slid his hand, still slick with cream, inside his bathing suit. “I probably should put cream here, too. Just in case something happens and you lose your bathing suit. But I don’t want it getting dirty, so be a good boy and pull it down just enough so your cock is exposed, please.” Crowley whined in eagerness and pulled down the suit just enough for his cock to spring free. Aziraphale stroked it with one finger. “Already so eager and hard for me. Such a good boy you are.” He wrapped his hand around the throbbing shaft, slowly pulling upward, and Crowley keened. “Fall apart for me, my love, fuck yourself on my fist, give me all of you...” Aziraphale panted as he pumped. Crowley’s head fell back as he thrust into Aziraphale’s hand, a keening wail pouring from his mouth.

Crowley gasped, shuddered, and came all over Aziraphale’s hand. The tailor pulled him into a searing kiss. “Such a good boy. But look, you got me all messy.” He held his hand in front of Crowley’s face. “Clean me up, please.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and licked him clean. His tongue was so silky soft, Aziraphale thought. “Good boy. Now it’s your turn to put the cream on me. And make sure you get every bit.”

‘Yes, Angel.” Crowley began rubbing the cream into Aziraphale’s back. His angel’s skin was so soft, so smooth. It had dimples in it, and Crowley loved them. He traced the unblemished skin, save for a few freckles, and felt an overwhelming sadness. “How could you stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“You’re...flawless, Aziraphale. Your skin is so smooth, and...I’m a mass of scar tissue. I still don’t understand how you can touch me without being sick.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. “Darling, I love your scars. Not because of some misguided notion that ‘scars are sexy’, but because they show just how strong you really are.”

“Wouldn’t say that if you knew me before.” Crowley mumbled.

“Yes. I would. Crowley, you are the most beautiful man I have ever known. Scars and all. And considering you have modeled for me, I know exactly how good you can look.”

Crowley smiled at that. “Yeah. Sorry.” Aziraphale kissed him.

“No need to apologize, love. Do please continue.”

Once the cream was applied(and then reapplied after a heavy snogging session), they went for a walk down the beach, letting the ocean wash over their bare feet. Crowley gathered shells, putting the best ones in his pockets and tossing the others. Oreo pranced in the water, spotted some sea birds, and ran for them, barking. Crowley called him back. “Behave, or you’re getting leashed.” Oreo wagged his tail and stayed next to Aziraphale.

They went back to the blanket and had a lunch of cheese, crackers, and soda before heading into the ocean for a swim. Crowley held on to Oreo, as the puppy was still not quite sure what to make of this big water. Aziraphale floated on his back, eyes fixed on the sky. “I used to come here to think.”

“About what?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Shoes and ships and sealing wax, but mostly about how...I didn’t fit. My family, they’re...”

“A bunch of wankers?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale sighed again.

“Yes. I used to think...that I was adopted, because I’m nothing like them. Even down to my looks. Both my parents have dark hair, and my siblings do as well. And here I am, with hair so blond it’s nearly white, like Grandmother had, at least from my vague memories. But it’s more than that. I’ve always been the bookish type, and my siblings very much are not. Plus too as the youngest I was constantly overlooked, looked through, or simply ignored. Sandalphon and Gabriel are both the athletic type, whereas I was always picked last for every game. Even my sister Michael was more popular than I. The only thing I had was that I could sew, and that’s actually because of Michael.” Crowley gave him a curious glance. “She got a sewing kit for her ninth birthday from an aunt living in...Spain, or France, some place like that. A relative that we’d never actually met. She pitched a fit because it wasn’t large and expensive and threw it across the room. It landed next to me, and..well, the rest is history, as they say. As I got better, I began to sketch ideas for outfits of my own, ones that didn’t come..premade.” Aziraphale huffed out a bitter sigh. “Somehow, Gabriel found my sketchbook. He took it to school with him, and he, Sandy, and all their boneheaded jock friends took turns writing some very nasty things in it. When he gave it back to me, I discovered that, in typical crass fashion, they had also drawn dicks all over the pages in indelible ink.”

“Assholes.” Crowley growled. “I woulda punched them.”

“Yes, well, I was not exactly the violent sort. I went to Father with the sketchbook, but...as was typical, he believed Gabriel’s insistence that he had nothing to do with it. I had to agree, lest I incur my brothers’ wrath. See...I was quite their favorite target when it came to bullying. Michael..she never participated, but she encouraged. Mother and Father wouldn’t believe me, because, according to them, I was ‘too imaginative’.” Aziraphale said bitterly. “A part of me felt relief when I got kicked out. I thought, ‘At last, I’m free to be who I am.’”

“Still hurts, though. I...my parents were pieces of shit. Dad was an abusive drunk who loved to use me as a punching bag and Mum just sat there, got drunk herself, and let him. He beat the shit out of her, too. But no matter how bad things got, I still...I wanted them to love me, you know?” Crowley asked, looking down at the water. Aziraphale nodded. “They got killed in a car crash a day before I had my first major shoot. I had to pretend to be happy, when I was torn up inside from guilt and relief. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No, my love. It makes you human.”


	11. The Taste of Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gives himself over to his Angel, but far too soon reality comes knocking. Still, with Aziraphale by his side, he can overcome anything.

Chapter Eleven: The Taste Of Your Skin

They had spent the entire day at the beach. Now, as the sun sank below the horizon, Crowley, Aziraphale and Oreo trudged back up to the beach house. Once inside, the men stripped off their salty, waterlogged bathing suits while Oreo submitted to being dried off with an old towel Aziraphale dug out of the linen closet. Aziraphale draped the suits over the back porch rail to dry off. “I suspect you’ll want to shower, wash the salt off.” He said as he walked back into the bedroom. The sight before him made him blink, then stare in open mouthed desire and astonishment.

Crowley was in front of the bed. Aziraphale would have scolded him for getting his floor wet, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate. Because Crowley wasn’t **just** in front of the bed. He was **kneeling.** His head was down, and his glorious curls kept his face hidden. He was as still as a statue. Aziraphale came over and placed his hand on the top of Crowley’s head. Immediately, Crowley pressed himself against the tailor’s hand, a low rumble of happiness in his throat. “My angel...”

Aziraphale ran his hand through the curls, smiling as Crowley continued purring. “My dear, sweet boy. Do you want to give yourself over to me, my love?”  Crowley nodded. “And so you presented yourself to me?” Another nod, followed by a worshipful gaze upward. “Such a beautiful darling you are. Such a wonder.” Crowley cooed in happiness and rubbed his head against Aziraphale’s waist. “How can I refuse such a gorgeous present as you, my dearest?” Aziraphale twined a curl in his fingers and gently tugged on it. Crowley keened. “Why don’t you start by sucking my cock.” 

Crowley whined in desire and bent forward, taking his angel into his mouth. Aziraphale’s hand tightened in his hair. Crowley swirled his tongue around the thick shaft, eyes shut in bliss. “Open your eyes, Crowley. Look at me while you suck me down.” Crowley instantly opened his eyes, gazing up in worshipful adoration at the man above him. Aziraphale’s eyes were soft with love. “Good boy. Never hide your eyes from me, my love. They are molten gold, they’re honey, and they’re so very beautiful.” Aziraphale said as he thrust into Crowley’s mouth. “Do you want more, my sweet boy? Do you want me to fuck your gorgeous mouth until I spill deep down your perfect throat?” Crowley whimpered and placed his hands on Aziraphale’s thighs, squeezing. Aziraphale  grabbed his shoulders and began thrusting as hard as he could. “You take me so well, my good, darling boy, my Anthony, no one’s ever taken my cock as well as you, you were made for it, I love you so, my good, obedient boy, my sweet demon, my love...” Aziraphale cried out as he came. Crowley whimpered and whined in sheer joy as he swallowed. He slowly released Aziraphale and looked up at him in worship. “Such a good boy.” 

Crowley felt a rush of ecstasy at those words. Aziraphale stroked his face, and Crowley sighed, leaning into the touch. “Will you please make love to me, Angel?” He asked in a soft, submissive tone. 

“How sweet you are to ask. Of course, my darling boy. Get on the bed, there’s a good boy.” Aziraphale said, a smile on his face. Crowley stood and slid onto the bed, legs spread wide. Aziraphale grabbed the lube and climbed onto the bed, settling himself between Crowley’s legs. The model was gloriously hard. Aziraphale stroked him with the tip of a finger. Crowley whined. “So beautiful. Something as gorgeous as you deserves to be savored. Now, I am going to take my time, kiss you everywhere. You, my darling, will stay perfectly still. If you move so much as a pinky, I will go downstairs and leave you alone up here until I feel you’re ready to behave. Am I understood?” Crowley nodded. “Good boy.” 

Aziraphale kissed his forehead, then both eyes, then his nose. Crowley sighed. The tailor pressed his lips to Crowley’s. Crowley started to kiss back, but then stopped. He wanted so very much to be good for his angel. He would be still for his love.  Aziraphale nipped gently on his lower lip before moving to his neck, sucking soft kisses into his skin. “Shall I tell you what you taste of, my darling?” Crowley whined. “Your skin is soft as the petals of the rose. You taste of salt and sun. The scent of you fills my head, and it is a perfume like no other. Your scent is honey, it is spice, and it is earth. You are glorious, you are wonder, you are rapture.” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s skin as he kissed every inch of him. “You are my sweet boy, my darling Anthony. I could spend hours taking you apart and putting you together again.” He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s right foot, then kissed up his leg, across his thigh, and down the other leg. “These were what I noticed first. These beautiful legs, ensconced in those tight pants. You have such lovely legs. Then I saw the fire curls, and I was lost. But oh, my love, when I saw your face, I knew that I would do anything to make you mine.”

“Yours, Angel, I’m yours.” Crowley sighed out. “I’ll do anything you want me to...”

Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of Crowley’s throbbing cock, then scooted up into a kneeling position. He gently positioned Crowley so his legs were bent and his ass exposed. “You will, won’t you? You have such faith and trust in me.” Crowley nodded. “You know I won’t hurt you.”

“Never, Angel. This...this is nothing like what I’ve had to go through. I trust you. I love you. I’ll do **anything** for you.” Crowley said in a soft, earnest tone. Aziraphale bent forward and kissed his forehead. It was benediction, and Crowley sighed happily. Aziraphale sat back up. 

The lube was pressed into Crowley’s hand. Aziraphale smiled, stroking his cock. “I want you to open yourself up for me, my perfect darling. Fuck yourself on your fingers. But you may not move any other part except your fingers, do you understand?” Crowley keened and spread the lube on his fingers, then slid them deep inside his hole. Aziraphale gave a low rumble of satisfaction and continued to stroke Crowley’s cock. “Such a wanton boy, so debauched. Are you enjoying this, my darling?” 

Crowley panted as he worked his fingers deeper. “Yes, Angel, so much! It feels so good!” He went deeper, twisting his fingers. “I’m close Angel, I’m so close, so close to being open for your perfect cock.”

“You want my cock, my love? Do you want me to fill you up and pound into your hole, over and over?”

“Yes please Angel please...” Crowley whined. His legs were trembling from the effort of keeping still. His fingers found what they had been questing for, and he wailed, nearly arching off the bed. Aziraphale took his hand and gently pulled it out. “Angel pleasssee...”

Aziraphale scooted forward and placed Crowley’s legs on his shoulders, then lined himself up and slammed home. Crowley howled in bliss. “ Please let me touch you please Angel...”

“No. Grab the headboard.” Aziraphale growled. Crowley instantly obeyed, wrapping his hands around the wrought iron. “Good boy.” Crowley sighed in happiness. Aziraphale smiled down at him. “My darling...I am going to fuck your gorgeous brains out now.” 

“Oh yes please...” Crowley sighed out, a blissful smile on his face. He tightened his grip on the headboard, knowing from wonderful experience that when Aziraphale got going, he went hard. And god, how Crowley loved it. Aziraphale’s hands settled on his waist, holding him down. Fuck, but his angel was so bloody strong. Crowley figured it came from hauling piles of clothes all over the place every day. But Aziraphale never expanded his strength past what he thought Crowley would like. 

“Look at me, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s sharp growl brought Crowley back to the present. He blushed. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I’ll be...ahh….ah….I’ll be good.” Crowley gasped out as Aziraphale moved gloriously inside him.

Aziraphale  smirked. “Of course you will. You’re a good, darling boy. So pliant. So obedient. So wonderful. My darling boy. You take my cock so well, and you make such beautiful sounds. Tell me, my darling, sweet boy, who do you belong to?”

“You, Angel, belong to you, only to you...” Crowley whimpered. 

“Yes...mine, mine alone, no one else will ever touch you again, I promise...I will burn that fucking place to ashes for what they did to you...I will make sure you only ever feel pleasure...my poor, broken love, my perfect one...I love you with all I am, Anthony, my darling...” Aziraphale chanted as he thrust into Crowley. “How is it you are still so tight around me, my love? I’ve had you so many times now...it’s a fucking miracle...you are a fucking miracle.” 

Crowley was floating. Aziraphale’s praise was sinking into him, and it was wonderful, it was everything he never knew that he wanted. No wonder none of his other relationships-brief as they had been-had felt right. Crowley had always been the one to take the lead, to give rather than receive, and it had left him feeling cold. But now, as Aziraphale continued to thrust deep inside him, hot words of love and devotion pouring from his lips, Crowley knew that this was what he had craved all along. Someone to make him theirs, to claim ownership to his body and soul. “Love you love you love you” he panted in tune with Aziraphale’s thrusts. He could feel his own orgasm building. “Angel, please let me come, I need to come, please Angel please...”

“You beg for it so prettily, my sweet boy, of course...” Aziraphale said. He placed his hand on Crowley’s cock, tugging. “Come apart for me, my darling, lose yourself in me, come **now**.” Aziraphale growled, and Crowley howled like a banshee and came, sobbing and screaming Aziraphale’s name. Aziraphale fucked him through his orgasm, then cried out as he came deep inside the redhead. 

Crowley was sobbing in happiness. Aziraphale wiped away his tears with a gentle, loving hand. “You did so well for me, my love. You fall apart so beautifully.”

“I love you so much, my angel. I love giving myself to you.” Crowley said, eyes soft with love. “I belong to you, Aziraphale.” 

“I know, my love. As do I belong to you.” He kissed Crowley on the lips before sliding out of bed. Crowley whined and reached out for him. “I’m getting a cloth to clean us up, love. I’ll be back.” True to his word, he returned minutes later with a wet cloth. He climbed into bed and sat next to Crowley, gently cleaning him up. Crowley let his head fall onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. The tailor stroked him with his free hand, smiling at the purring sounds. “You like being petted, don’t you?”

“Hmm. Feels nice.” Crowley’s voice was thick with sleep. Aziraphale finished cleaning them both up and tossed the towel into a nearby hamper. Crowley slid closer, wrapping himself around the tailor. “Love when you pull it. You don’t pull ha...” Crowley yawned. “Hard. Jus’...enough.”

“What else do you love?” 

Crowley ‘hmmed’. “When you hold me down, show me how strong you are. It’s nice, and...I feel safe, because I know if I asked, you’d stop.”

“Well, of course I would. I want you to experience the same pleasure I do.” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley gave him a hug. “I’ve never um...most of the time I was...the one leading, you know? And...I hated it, but I had cultivated this...persona. The cool, suave Anthony Crowley. I was the one in charge, the one that dominated everyone. But it wasn’t the real me. I..a few times, with my exes, I’d ask for them to..to dominate me, but they would refuse, say that I was...wasn’t that type, and...”

“Exes? How many lovers have you had?” Aziraphale asked out of curiosity. 

Crowley sighed. “Four, counting you. Also a number of one night stands and hookups when I was young and stupid. Used protection for all of them and I get tested every month. You know I’m clean, Angel.” Aziraphale nodded. “ You also know that...due to Hastur and Ligur’s twisted sense of...morality, that...I wasn’t raped.” Crowley sucked in a sob. “It’s funny, you know. They’ll beat me until I can’t move, assault me with sounds that make my ears bleed, subject me to torments that leave me nothing more than a bloody pile of meat and bones, but god forbid they be thought of as fags. Which is supremely ironic, given that I’m pretty sure they’re fucking each other.” 

Aziraphale tightened his grip. “Hey, none of that. I brought us here to let you escape from your demons. Don’t dredge them up, okay?” 

Crowley nodded. “Kay. Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bloody starving.” 

Aziraphale blinked at him for several seconds before throwing his head back and laughing until he hiccuped. 

They got their shower, then dressed and went into the village. Much to Crowley’s relief, none of the townspeople treated him any differently than they had that morning. A few did ask how he was, and Aziraphale fielded all their questions with a terse, but polite, “He’s doing better, thank you. Excuse us.” 

The pub had outdoor seating, and as it was a very nice night, they chose to sit outside. Oreo curled up at Crowley’s feet. The waitress came and took their orders-filet mignon with new potatoes for Aziraphale, and a bacon cheeseburger with chips for Crowley. They each ordered a pint of the house ale at the waitress’s recommendation. After she went inside to place the orders and get the drinks, Aziraphale  looked around. “Such a beautiful place. You know, I could live here.”

“Yeah?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “Live on the beach, spend my days walking up and down the shore, not doing any work unless I had to, come into town once in a while. I’d spend rainy days in the library, reading and sketching things that aren’t bloody clothing. Winters I’d have the fire going, and I would curl up on the sofa with a thick, woolly blanket and a steaming cup of hot cocoa. I’d go to bed whenever I wanted and wake up whenever I pleased. I’d watch the sun go down on the beach every night.” 

Crowley smiled at the description. “It sounds like Heaven.” The waitress returned with their drinks and some bread. “We didn’t order that.”

“Compliments of the house, sir. It’s very good. Your food should be up very soon.” 

The bread, a dark rich rye, was indeed very good, newly baked and hot from the oven, with whipped butter. The ale was even better, dark with just a touch of bitter. Crowley whistled, impressed. “Not bad.”

Oreo got a bit of bread and butter. Crowley pulled his hand back, spreading his fingers. “Aziraphale, how many fingers do I have?” 

“Six, my love.” Aziraphale said in a teasing tone. Crowley laughed. 

“Oh good, I thought they were all there.” He spread some butter on another slice of bread. “So, you’d live here, huh?”

“Yes. But you see, there’s something else. I could never live here alone. I’d need someone.”

Crowley felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. “Yeah? Have anyone in mind?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, yes. The person I’m thinking of is very tall, and skinny. He’s got a smile that makes my heart pound, and he’s a redhead. I’ve always loved redheads. He’s been treated horribly for years, and I want to erase every bad memory and replace them with pleasant ones. He’s sweet, and kind, and gentle, and has the most  **adorable** puppy, who I also happen to love quite a lot. He has this tendency to cling to me like an octopus whenever we’re sitting together, or when we’re in bed. I rather love that, because he’s so warm.”

Crowley was beet red. “Y’re wrm.” He mumbled. 

“I wasn’t finished, darling. He’s got an uncanny knack for keeping plants alive. If he were with me, I’d ask him if he wanted to turn the back yard into a garden, a place where he could be happy. He can’t cook at all, but that wouldn’t matter because I could teach him. I would spend hours drawing him, letting him model only for me. Winter nights, we’d snuggle under the blankets. He would submit to me, give himself to me, and I would give him the praise he so richly deserves. I would make him his favorite breakfast, and we’d spend so much time at the beach we’d both be tan. We’d fall in love a bit more every day.”

Crowley barely registered that their food had arrived. “Aziraphale, are you asking me to...”

“Stay with me, my love. Here.” 

“Yes.” Crowley sobbed out. He swiped his eyes. “We’d uh...better eat before it gets cold.” Aziraphale nodded, his own eyes bright. 

After a delicious dinner and an even better dessert of house made pound cake with fresh strawberries and cream, they headed back home. Aziraphale sank onto the sofa, and Crowley climbed into his lap. “Want to stay here forever, Angel. I never want to go back. Never.”

“Me too, my darling.” The tailor sighed. “Uriel should be calling soon.” Crowley frowned at him. “I got a text from her while you were using the loo at the pub.” 

Aziraphale’s mobile rang. “That’s probably her. Uriel?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Got some great news. Evidence went through clean as anything, and as of...twenty minutes ago, Zebub, Fish, and their two cohorts are in custody pending charges of torture and imprisonment.”

Aziraphale looked profoundly relieved. “Oh, thank Heavens.”

Uriel sighed. “Yeah, but there’s some..not so great news. The lead barrister wants Crowley to testify. Says that it’s his testimony that will be key to bringing in a guilty verdict. The defense is...well, they’re going with the angle that it was...um..consensual on his part. That he...oh hell, they’re saying that he enjoyed it.”

“WHAT?!” Crowley jumped at the vehemence in Aziraphale’s voice. The tailor modified his tone. “How the fuck can they say that?!”

“That’s the angle they’re going for. They’ll drag him through the mud, Aziraphale. Unless he tells his side of the story, they will make him out to be some sort of...twisted masochist that gets off on pain.”

“He tried to kill himself! How is that getting off on...”

“They’ll say he’s a junkie who had an overdose. I’m sorry, but there’s no way around this.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “There has to be. Think of something.” He hung up. Crowley was shaking. “Did you...hear the other half of the conversation?”

“Yes, please don’t make me go back, Angel, don’t make me remember, don’t want to remember, don’t want to tell, I can’t go back, I can’t I...I have to, don’t I? Otherwise it will never be over. They’ll...haunt me, the rest of my life. Call Uriel, tell her I’ll testify.” 

“Are you sure, my love?” Crowley nodded. “My brave, sweet boy.” 

**Two Weeks Later**

Crowley shook as he approached the stand. The evidence against Dagon and Bee had been overwhelming, even without his testimony. Several of their models had given their own statements, and all had emphasized that Crowley had only consented to the torture to save them from it. 

Crowley took the stand and swore to tell the whole truth. The prosecutor spoke. “Please state your full name.”

“Anthony Jermaine Crowley.” He looked out in the gallery and saw Aziraphale grin. 

“And your occupation?”

“I’m a model for Aziraphale Fell. But before that I...was employed by the defendants.”

The prosecutor nodded. “Earlier, you allowed photos to be taken. Photos that show scars from beatings, correct?”

Crowley sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

“There’s been statements from your fellow employees that you willingly consented to these beatings.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you consent?”

Crowley looked over at the models. “Because I wanted to protect them. They’re so young. They didn’t deserve to know that kind of pain.”

“Did you enjoy it?” 

Crowley shook his head. “No.” 

The prosecutor nodded. “No more questions. Mr. Garick, your witness.”

Mr. Garick stood and approached the stand. “Mr. Crowley, prior to working for my clients, you were involved in an accident, correct?”

“Yes, but...”

“And as a direct result of that accident, you developed an addiction to pain killers.”

“What? No!”

Mr. Garick smiled. “I have hospital records here. You were brought in due to an overdose. Is that correct or is it not?”

“Yes, but...”

“Now, these pain killers, they can alter perception. Isn’t it true, Mr. Crowley, that rather than consenting to protect the other models, you consented because you enjoy feeling pain? Isn’t it true that you suggested each method used?”

“NO!” Crowley screamed. 

The judge glared at him. “Mr. Crowley, control your voice.”

Garick’s smile grew slimier. “The truth is, Mr. Crowley, that you are attempting to distance yourself from something that was your idea to begin with, isn’t that right?”

Crowley shook his head. “No. They tortured me. They traumatized me. They...nobody would want the sort of pain they put me through. They broke me, over and over. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. But I still let them. Because I had to.” He glared at the defense table. “You nearly had me. I fell apart, fell into despair. My angel saved me, made me realize that I don’t deserve what you did to me. I know the truth. I was never worthless. I didn’t deserve any of it.”

Aziraphale would have burst into applause, but he realized it might be poor etiquette. Instead he settled on blowing Crowley a kiss from the gallery. 

Garick frowned, realizing he wouldn’t be able to get any further under Crowley’s skin. “No further questions.”

The judge nodded. “You may step down, Mr. Crowley.” 

**Five hours later**

Crowley clutched Aziraphale’s hand. The jury had returned after a very short deliberation. The judge spoke to the foreperson. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, your honor. We find the defendants Guilty on all counts.”

Crowley collapsed against Aziraphale, sobbing in relief. “It’s over...it’s over...” He felt a hand on his back and turned, smiling through his tears at Rosa. 

“You did it.” She said, her own face wet with happy tears. He pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love all of you.” Crowley said to the girls. “There’s a...I know a place, can help you all get off the pills they forced on you.”

Rosa smiled at her fellow models. “We will. And...we love you, Anthony. You’re..the best big brother we’ve never had.” Crowley beamed and gestured for the other girls to join. Rosa grinned. “Your man won’t mind, will he?”

Aziraphale snorted and pulled her into a hug. “Nonsense, my dear.  Hugs are better the more people are in them.”

They went to dinner together, Aziraphale listening as the girls told him of other things Crowley had done for them, when they were too strung out to fend for themselves. How even in the midst of his pain he made sure they got home safe. How he would shield them from the worst of Dagon’s temper by bearing the brunt of it himself. How he sacrificed everything, over and over. 

Much, much later, after they had returned to their home on the beach(and to a very happy to see them Oreo), Aziraphale took Crowley in hand and led him up to their bedroom. “You’re finally free, my love. How does it feel?”

“Like Heaven.” They kissed for several blissful moments. “Aziraphale?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Make me yours.”


	12. And All Shall Be Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well.

Chapter Twelve: And All Shall Be Well

Crowley stood on the beach where the sea met the sand, letting the cool water lap at his ankles. A breeze came up, and goosebumps rose on his bare skin. Soon enough it would become too cold to do this. He waded deeper, hissing under his breath. “Shit. That’s cold.” He took several deep breaths, then dove under the waves.

He came back up, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and began swimming, brief, hard strokes that carried him parallel to the beach. There was a sandbar a hundred yards down from the beach house and it was there that Crowley swam to every morning. He was getting fit again, his muscles getting stronger. Aziraphale rather liked it.

His hands touched the sandbar’s bottom and he stood up in waist deep water, shivering lightly. He waded onto the sandbar, then stretched out on the cool sand, letting the rising sun slowly warm him. He lifted his face to the warmth, eyes closed.

Once he was sufficiently warm enough. Crowley dove back into the water and swam for home. A towel, newly warmed from the dryer, was draped over the porch railing. Smiling, he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping into the beach house.

An exuberant Oreo came running to greet him, tail wagging. Crowley fussed and cooed over him. “Good morning, my baby boy. Where’s Other Daddy?”

Aziraphale emerged from the kitchen, holding a spatula. “Right here, my sweet.” He came over and kissed Crowley. “You taste of the ocean, my love. Did you enjoy your swim?”

“I always do. What’s the spatula for?”

Aziraphale pressed it against Crowley’s nose. “If you must know, foul fiend, I’m making pancakes. Which I should return to before they burn. Go upstairs and put on some clothing, please.”

Crowley pouted. “Do I have to? I thought you liked it when I was...natural.” He leered, leaning in and nipping at Aziraphale’s neck. The tailor stepped back and gave him the Look. The one that made Crowley eager to obey any order given.

“Go upstairs and put on the outfit that is on the bed.”

Crowley’s skin tingled. “Yes, Angel,” he said in a breathless rush before running upstairs. Aziraphale smirked to himself and went back to the kitchen and his pancakes.

Crowley gaped at the outfit Aziraphale had laid out for him. It wasn’t one he recognized. The shirt was a deep, crimson red with black threads cleverly sewn within, and it almost seemed to...shimmer. Upon closer inspection, Crowley saw that black and gold sequins had been sewn into the material. He picked it up. Silk. The pants that accompanied it were black, also silk, and also had sequins sewn into them. Crowley hung the towel over the bar in the bathroom then went back into the bedroom. He pulled the pants on, and they clung to him like a second skin, the material moving as he walked. They were almost sinfully comfortable. He donned the shirt, making sure all the buttons were in their right holes, then went over to the large mirror in the corner.

“Oh.” He looked...amazing. The sequins shimmered and glowed, giving the effect of scales in the sunlight. His red hair seemed to be on fire, and the dark colors of the outfit made his eyes brighter. Where had Aziraphale found this?

Aziraphale was sliding the last pancake onto the platter when a soft noise made him turn. Crowley stood in the doorway, a soft, shy smile on his face. “Okay, Angel?” Aziraphale gulped.

“More than okay. Turn for me?” He made a spinning gesture, and Crowley turned in a slow circle, letting Aziraphale see all of the outfit. The tailor came over, grinning. “I see I haven’t lost my touch.”

Crowley gaped at him. “You made this?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well of course I did. Do you think I’d allow my darling boy to be dressed in anything but the finest clothes? You will be draped in silks and satin, my love.”

“But when…?”

Aziraphale smirked. “Do you remember about two weeks ago, I asked for your measurements?”

“Yeah, I thought you were just curious.”

“Oh, I was. Professionally. See, I rather despise the clothes you have now. I’m sure at some point they were fashionable, but for my sweet pet, only the best is permitted on that lovely skin of yours.” Aziraphale twined his hand around one of Crowley’s curls, tugging gently. ‘I’ve got more outfits planned, my love. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, please Angel.” Crowley said, eyes half shut as Aziraphale stroked his hair. He whimpered when the tailor released him.

“Breakfast first, I think.” Aziraphale said, turning and heading back to the kitchen. Pouting, Crowley followed.

After breakfast, Aziraphale sat on the sofa, a large sketchbook laid out on the table in front. Crowley positioned himself so that Aziraphale could pet his hair, something that the model could never get enough of. Aziraphale ran his fingers through the red tresses, tugging gently when he reached the ends. Crowley purred in happiness and nuzzled against his love. Aziraphale positioned the sketchbook on his lap and opened it up. The first sketch was done in colored pencil, and it was of a shirt. The shirt was a dark green, and it had no buttons. “This was one of the first sketches I did. The material would be this lovely cotton, very breathable. Easy to wash. That’s going to be your outdoor shirt, for when you work in the garden.”

Crowley smirked. ‘Thought you liked me being topless in the garden.” Aziraphale tugged on his hair.

“Behave, and yes, I rather do, but the weather is turning cold and I don’t fancy my pet getting sick. Do you want to get sick?”

“No, Angel. The shirt’s very nice.”

“Hmm. I should have it ready by the end of next week. There’s a few other things.” Aziraphale flipped the page. “This is, of course, the outfit you’re wearing now.”

“Yeah. Why the sequins?”

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “You told me once you liked snakes. I thought I’d make you my darling serpent. Lord knows you coil around me like a snake.” Crowley blushed and wrapped himself around the tailor. “Yes, like that. Now I’ve got a few more outfits that are in the process of being made, but I also have a few special items that I had to order in, as I don’t have the...skills to make them myself. Would you like to see what I bought for you?”

Crowley nodded eagerly. Aziraphale untangled him and went upstairs, returning with a small bag. He sat back down and placed it in Crowley’s lap, nodding at him to open it. Crowley reached in and pulled out a pair of lacy silk panties, deep red in color. Crowley gulped. Aziraphale stroked his face. “There’s a whole assortment in there, my sweet pet. It would make me so happy if you would wear them for me.”

“Oh, yes, Angel.” Crowley breathed out. “Do you want me to go put a pair on now?”

“Hmm, I do. And keep off the rest of your clothes. I want to see you in nothing but the panties for a bit.”

Crowley leaped off the couch and ran upstairs, the bag in his hand. Halfway up, he stopped. “What color?”

“Surprise me, my love.”

Crowley ran into the bedroom, heart pounding in anticipation. He reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of light blue panties. Shivering from desire, he shed his clothes(draping them neatly over a chair) and slid the panties on. They hugged his ass, and his cock could be seen through the material, already straining upwards. Aziraphale was going to love it.

He went back down stairs to where Aziraphale sat. “Angel?”

Aziraphale looked up from his sketchbook. His eyes went dark, and Crowley trembled with want. Aziraphale stood and stalked over to Crowley. “Such a sweet pet, so beautiful like this.” He ran his hands down Crowley’s chest, stopping at his pantie line. “Are they comfortable, my love?”

“Very, Angel.” Crowley breathed out. Aziraphale gently cupped him through the material.

“Your cock isn’t too restricted, is it, my pet?”

“N..no, Angel. It feels good.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Good. Crowley, be a good boy and kneel for me. Hands behind your back.” Crowley instantly obeyed, dropping to his knees and linking his hands together behind him. “Now, my sweet little pet, I am going to have you suck me until I come down your throat. However, you are not to come until I give you my permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Angel.” Crowley moaned. They had done this a few times, and each time was like Heaven to Crowley, only being able to come at his angel’s behest. It was the sweetest torture ever devised.

“Such a **good** boy,” Aziraphale purred before taking out his cock. Crowley whined in eager anticipation, his own cock straining against the silk. “I want you to worship it, Crowley. Do all you can to make me come.”

“Oh, yes, Angel,” Crowley moaned before leaning forward and taking Aziraphale into his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and wrapped his tongue around the shaft, sucking hard. Aziraphale cursed above him. 

“Fuck, you take my cock so well, my sweet pet, I could spend hours like this, with you on your knees in front of me, my cock in your mouth. Suck harder...ohhh...yes, my good little pet, so eager to please me, my darling boy, my sweet little slut, so wanton for me, so needy, so obedient...”

Crowley was floating. Aziraphale’s praise was life to him. Even now, three months later, he still craved it, still needed it like a man dying of thirst needs water. He felt invigorated every time Aziraphale dominated him, made him submit. Crowley loved it, loved giving himself over to this man. Aziraphale seemed to know with uncanny perception exactly how Crowley wanted to be dominated. The tailor was gentle, with hints of steel. Crowley trusted him implicitly and would obey any order given without question. He was safe with his angel. With his...master. 

Above him, Aziraphale tugged on his curls a bit sharply. Crowley looked up. “You’re thinking something, my pet. What is it?” Aziraphale asked softly, still thrusting into Crowley’s mouth. The model moaned. “Tell me after I come, pet. I’m about to.” Aziraphale sighed out, his pace increasing. “Oh, my darling, suck me hard my love, such a filthy, sweet, hot mouth you have...” Aziraphale cried out as he came. Crowley swallowed, whimpering in happiness. Aziraphale went over to the sofa and patted his lap. Crowley climbed on, and Aziraphale stroked him through the panties. “So hard, so wet and dripping. Do you need to come, my pet? Is your cock aching from it?”

“Yes, please Ma...Angel, please let me come!” Crowley sobbed out. Aziraphale pushed down his panties and grasped his throbbing cock. Crowley whined and moved. Aziraphale held him down with one hand.

“Oh no, my pet. You will stay still.” Aziraphale said in a low growl. He squeezed Crowley’s cock, and the redhead howled. “No moving, understand?” Crowley nodded. “Good little pet.” Aziraphale whispered, then began. He stroked Crowley slowly, applying pressure gradually. 

Crowley whimpered. This was torture, he was going to die, this was bliss, he had never felt more alive. His nerve endings were on fire, and his world had narrowed to his angel’s(and oh he hoped Aziraphale would let Crowley call him Master, because he owned Crowley, owned him body and soul) hand on his cock. His entire body was thrumming with need. “Please Angel please let me come please let your pet come let me come please...” 

“You beg so prettily, my darling. Let go for me, my sweet one.” Aziraphale whispered in his ear, and Crowley came with Aziraphale’s name pouring from his mouth. He collapsed against Aziraphale, panting hard, his brain full of happy fog. “You did so well, my love.”

“Master...” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s shoulder. The tailor blinked. 

“What did you call me?” 

Crowley gulped, head bowed. “Master. Do you not like it?”

Aziraphale placed his hand under Crowley’s chin and lifted his head. Crowley shivered at the dark, hungry look in his eyes. “Say that again, my pet.”

“Master. My master.” Crowley said in a soft, submissive voice. “You own me, Aziraphale. I am yours, yours alone. I am your slave, your pet, and your toy. You are my angel and master. I am yours to use as you see fit. I love you, Master.”

Aziraphale blinked, then kissed Crowley with everything he had. Crowley kissed back, moaning in pleasure. “My sweet, darling pet, my good boy, you’re so fucking perfect, I love you so much...” Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s mouth. 

“Love you so much, Master...” Crowley groaned, and oh that word was making Aziraphale hard as iron. 

“My sweet, I think we should go upstairs. I have this sudden need to fuck you until neither of us can walk.” 

“Oh, yes, please Master...” Aziraphale’s cock twitched. 

“Ohh..god...Crowley, hearing you call me Master is such a fucking turn on...” Aziraphale groaned. Crowley beamed. “Come, my slave, upstairs.” 

“Yes, my master. My angel.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale upstairs to their bedroom. “How do you want me, Master?” Aziraphale  smiled. 

“On the bed, hands grabbing the headboard.” Crowley obeyed, and Aziraphale went over to the dresser. Crowley’s heart began pounding. He knew the lube was in the second drawer down, but Master’s ties were in the first, and...Aziraphale opened the top drawer. Crowley keened. Aziraphale pulled out two ties and came over to the bed, running them through his fingers. “Do you consent to being tied, my love?”

“Oh, yes, please Master...” Crowley moaned. Aziraphale looped one tie around his wrists and tied it tight enough to restrain but lose enough so Crowley could break free any time. 

Crowley’s mind drifted back to that day two weeks ago when Aziraphale had sat him down, telling him they needed to talk…

“ _Crowley, if we are to enter into a serious Dom/Sub relationship, we need to make some ground rules. I’m sure you know, but I’m not really the..rough type, when it comes to the sort of dominance I prefer.”_

“ _Angel, you fucked me so hard last night I have bruises.”_

_ Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I do not enjoy the inflicting of pain, Crowley. I much prefer praise, and while yes, I love rough sex, I do not wish to draw blood. Especially when it comes to you, my sweet. You have lived through enough pain. I only wish to bring you pleasure. Now, I want us to have a Safe Word. That way, if I am doing something that you do not enjoy, or if...something I do triggers a memory, you will say the word and we will stop. Understand?” _

“ _Yes. Can the safe word be ocean?”_

“ _Ocean. Yes. If you say ocean, I will stop.”_

“Are you doing well, my pet?” Aziraphale asked softly as he knelt between Crowley’s legs. 

“Yes, Master. May I ask what the other tie is for?” 

Aziraphale smiled. “I thought I would blindfold you. Do you agree to that, my darling slave?”

“Oh yes Master...” Crowley moaned. Aziraphale leaned forward and placed the tie over his eyes, tying it in the back.

“It’s not too tight, is it love?”

“No, Master, it’s just right.” 

“Excellent. Now...what shall I do with this lovely cock of yours? Would you like me to suck you, my pet?” 

Crowley whined in need. Aziraphale gently tugged his cock. “Words, my pet.”

“Yes, please Master, please suck your slave’s cock...” Crowley moaned. Aziraphale patted his leg. 

“Good boy.” He scooted so he was lying between Crowley’s legs, then licked a long, hot stripe up. Crowley gasped. “You know a cock as beautiful as yours...” Aziraphale flicked his tongue across the slit, lapping up the beads of precome, and Crowley whimpered. “Deserves to be...savored. Will you let me savor you, my sweet boy?”

“Fuck yes Master...” Crowley cried out, grinding his hips upward. “Take me apart with your mouth and tongue...”

“Pets don’t tell their masters what to do.” Aziraphale growled. Crowley gulped. “However, since I had already planned on doing just that, you’re forgiven.” Crowley hummed in happiness. “Dear little pet.”

Aziraphale kissed his balls, rolling one and then the other around his tongue. “So fucking delicious...”

Crowley screeched in pleasure when Aziraphale swallowed him down. “MASTER!” Aziraphale smirked around his cock and began sucking in earnest, his head bobbing at a frantic pace. Crowley gave vent to a random string of syllables. Fuck, not being able to see what Aziraphale was doing, only being able to hear and feel, was fucking amazing. His Master was so good at this, Crowley thought fuzzily. Crowley was so lucky to have a master like him. Aziraphale loved giving Crowley pleasure, and Crowley loved getting it. It was so...nice…

Crowley was thrusting into Aziraphale’s mouth, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. “Oh Master yes love you so much Master god fuck Master...” 

Aziraphale moaned, stroking himself. Fuck, and he thought Crowley calling him angel was a turn on. That was nothing compared to this. His cock had never been so hard, and he knew that if he didn’t fuck his gorgeous boy soon, he’d come on the bed and well, that would be a waste. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Crowley screeched out his new title and came down his throat. 

Aziraphale sat up and poured lube on his cock and fingers before lifting Crowley’s legs and placing them on his shoulders. “I’m going to leave you tied and blindfolded while I fuck you, darling.”

“Oh, Master, yes please...” Crowley growled out, mouth open in a pant. He cried out when Aziraphale slid his lube-slicked fingers into him. “Oh, Master...”

Aziraphale removed his fingers and slammed home. Crowley howled. “OH, FUCK, YES, MASTER!”

Aziraphale growled. Fuck, that was so fucking hot...He set a relentless pace, fucking into Crowley harder than he ever had before. Crowley howled, screamed, screeched, and begged for more. He wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist, urging him to go deeper, faster, and harder. Aziraphale’s cock hit him from every angle, and Crowley babbled mindlessly. “Master master master...”

Aziraphale was so close. He could tell that his pet was as well, given the beautiful sounds that were coming from his mouth. “Can you come untouched, my love? Can you come without my hand on your cock?”

“Yes Master!” Crowley cried out. 

“Good. Come for me, my darling. Let go. Come...”

“MASTER!” Crowley screeched. His back arched as he came so hard he saw stars. Aziraphale continued to pound into him, making every nerve of his body tremble. He cried out again when he felt his master come inside him. “Oh, Master...” 

Aziraphale gently undid the blindfold and untied him. Crowley fell forward, wrapping his arms around the tailor. “Thank you, Master.” He breathed out. Aziraphale stroked his hair. 

“You’re welcome, my sweet one. Do you think you can manage the shower or would you like me to clean you?”

“I can manage the shower, Master.”

“Good. When you dry off, I want you to wear the red panties with the outfit I made you. I want to go into town and show you off, make everyone jealous of my darling pet.”

Crowley rubbed his head against Aziraphale’s chest. “I love you.” 

“I love you. Now go shower.”

After Crowley showered, dried, and dressed, they got Oreo leashed up and walked into town. Aziraphale was quite pleased to notice that Crowley turned quite a few heads, both male and female. They went into the sweet shop, where Aziraphale indulged Crowley’s sweet tooth by buying him a box of homemade  fudge(peanut butter), an assortment of chocolates, and some taffy. They also each got a root beer. 

Aziraphale went into the bookshop while Crowley waited on the bench outside. Oreo sat at his feet, wagging his tail in greeting to the people that came over to say hi. Crowley and Aziraphale were now well known in town, and the locals often stopped to chat. Crowley was just happy that the news of his testimony was unknown around here. He didn’t think he could handle the questions. 

Rosa had written to them a week ago, saying that the rehab center Crowley had lauded was doing wonders. She had gotten a flat with Marie, one of the models, and together they had started an online business selling handmade jewelry. The other girls were all doing well, Rosa said. Some had been deeper into the pills than others, but all were working hard to get and stay clean. Crowley had cried for hours after getting the letter. 

A frown crossed his face as he thought of the phone call he had gotten just after. It had been Azreal. His former boss had expressed his “condolences” for what had happened to Crowley(“Damn shame, kid”) and then had had the gall to ask if Crowley wanted to come back to work for Horse People Agencies. Crowley was pretty sure he had set the air on fire from the number of curses that poured from his mouth as he told the man he would sooner fuck a dead donkey.  He had taken great satisfaction in ending that call. He was rather perturbed that he couldn’t slam the phone down on a cradle, so he settled for tossing it onto the table with a bit more force than necessary. 

Aziraphale came out of the store, laden with books. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” 

Later that night, Crowley lay on his stomach, eyes closed as Aziraphale rubbed his back, kissing the scars. “Master?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Thank you for coming into my life.”

Aziraphale kissed him between the shoulder blades. “No, my darling. Thank  **you** .” 

Crowley melted into the sheets with a happy sigh. This was his life now. A beautiful house on the beach, contentment, peace, and a master that he was falling more in love with every day. 

He wouldn’t trade it for anything. 


End file.
